Silent Blades, White Wings And Silver Fangs
by Celleron
Summary: Artemis Entreri is dead. He has abandoned his companions to go home. What he does not know is, on his way back to Calimshan, that a man cannot run from his destiny. On the course of his latest adventure, will Artemis Entreri learn how to trust again?
1. Prelude

_**One of the consequences of living an existence that spans centuries instead of decades is the inescapable curse of continually viewing the world through the focusing prism employed by a historian.**_

_**I say "curse"-when in truth I believe it to be a blessing-because any hope of prescience requires a constant questioning of what is, and a deep-seated belief in the possibility of what can be. Viewing events as might the historian requires an acceptance that my own initial, visceral reactions to seemingly momentous events may be errant, that my "gut instinct" and own emotional needs may not stand the light of reason in the wider view, or even that these events, so momentous in my personal experience, might not be so in the wider world and the long, slow passage of time.**_

_**How often have I seen that my first reaction is based on half-truths and biased perceptions! How often have I found expectations and completely inverted or tossed aside as events played out to their fullest!**_

_**My thoughts often wondered to Artemis Entreri, who I often thought what I would become if the welcoming arms of Bruenor, the love of Cattie-Brie, or the friendship of Wulfgar did not come. Amidst all his skill and prowess, Artemis Entreri is a hollow man, devoid of any pleasure, existing only to kill. **_

_**The human was not without his saving grace however, those who do not stand in his way are unharmed and his determination is something I understand and admire. Instead of honing his skills to protect those he hold dear-or if he has someone to hold dear-he trains himself to stay in peak condition like I do.**_

_**Artemis Entreri himself views the world unlike any man I have ever seen from reasons unknown to me, he has**_ _**developed an utterly pessimistic and pragmatic outlook, viewing the world as a hateful place where every creature exploits every other creature, unless they are too weak to do so; to survive, one must possess the power to exploit others and the ruthlessness to do so without allowing emotions to encumber you.**_

_**I have not seen the assassin ever since the aftermath of our battle, but I hope for his sake, whatever choler that is lodged inside his heart can be lessened or purged-if possible-as no man can bear the burden of solitude, the endless journey darker than the Underdark, the boundless paranoia that remains as a debilitating baggage.**_

_**Again, I hope for his sake, he will find closure, and to do that, he must allow his trust to fall more than unto himself, but to others as well.**_

_**-Drizzt Do'Urden**_


	2. Chapter 1: The Stranger And The Forest

Chapter 1 – The Stranger And The Forest

"How are you holding up?" The traveling merchant asked. Artemis Entreri did not answer right away, internally asking that question to himself. How can he be alright? He had found love but had let it go; he has answers regarding his parentage, about Shanali, and he had exacted revenge upon those who have taken his mother's life under the guise of some god. Yet all of those results in him feeling morbidly empty, and until now he is still is not sure what spurred him to go back to Calimport no less; even his companions, his so called _friends_ had offered to come with him.

There was Jarlaxle, his flamboyant but nevertheless deadly drow friend whom insisted that going to Calimshan would be pleasantly nostalgic, and there was Athrogate as well, vulgar and obnoxious as he can be, though the dwarf fighter remains a valuable ally solely from his physical strength and combat prowess. He had left them as well. After so many years, so many paths trodden, and so many people killed, the assassin was alone, truly alone.  
Wearily, he answered the man.  
"I'm fine." He answered with icy finality, the thought remained is his mind, slowly lulling him into sleep.

Artemis saw Calihye in his dream, the incident in the apartment was replayed; only Artemis was the one who was pushed down, and not the half-elf whom was laughing as she twirled Jarlaxle's disembodied head. The fall seems to stretch endlessly and on his way down he saw the drow ranger Drizzt Do' Urden, his twin scimitars angled a semblance he often adopted when the drow lived, dancing with his red-haired human lover whose name Artemis simply could not yet remember, which was peculiar since the three of them have formed an uneasy truce during the escape from Menzoberranzan. That train of thought was immediately silenced by an image of Shanali. A comforting aura emanated from her slim frame, her face, beautiful but creased with age, dirt and old poppy bruises. She smiled unto the assassin, a motherly smile, one he gave to him to comfort him after his foster father's numerous abuse. Artemis can't help but return the smile. The smile disappeared as quickly as it was formed, as the unmistakable scowl of his foster father, Belrigger appeared and with that, Artemis's hand shot forward.

A sudden jolt through the carriage woke Artemis from the dream. The shock was followed by a muffled shout and in a second, replaced by murmurs of agreement between two people, Artemis can actually imagine a purse full of silver coins being exchanged.

The russet-colored flap of the carriage opened slightly and in came a small hooded figure dressed in a combination of a baggy cream tunic with moss-green cloak and brown shorts, with what it seems a small dagger and a pouch slung beside the hem of the pants.

At a glance what came to Artemis's mind was a traveling halfling, but then the stranger unfastened the clasp of the cloak and opened the hood, revealing a round boyish face, with big light eyes and short, wavy locks of bright yellow hair. The boy sat down.

"Hello."

The boy spoke, his voice high yet melodic. He offered Artemis a hand to shake coupled with a smile. The hand hung there for a few seconds of silence until the child realized that the older man's own hand will not be coming, he sheepishly withdrew.

"I'm Eschuel-"

"Artemis." A curt reply followed by a nod.

The introductory air was heavy as the two acquaintances sat there in silence, the child unpacked quietly, setting his dagger and cloak on the side. Artemis averted his gaze, and rested his head back the drawn carriage's wall. The boy called Eschuel sat on the other side of the cramped carriage, his back slowly seeking leverage against the wooden wall, as he gingerly leaned back.

The hesitant tell-tale sign of discomfort did not escape Artemis.

"Are you hurt boy?" He asked.

His talking conversation partner's head perked up, surprise crossed briefly on his face, which made way to a toothy smile.

"Oh no, It's just a bit uncomfortable that's all." The boy's hands went to the back of his head.

Artemis Entreri, having been in the presence of a master conversationalist for a long time, coupled with his childhood memories as a prankster has trained him to recognize a bluff when he hears one. Artemis decided to not press the issue, if the child can find the courage to travel, he should be able to take physical wounds in stride.

The straw-haired boy then took a swig from a stiff-leather canteen in his pouch.

"Do you want some? You look kind of pale." Motioned the boy.

Artemis shook his head.

"Some jerky then?" The boy said, again motioning a piece of dried meat.

Being rather famished and coupled with the jerky's gamey aroma, the assassin silently took the offered food. A few second passed with silence, a strange expression of bemusement appeared on the boy's face.

"You are welcome." The boy suddenly spoke; a hint of sarcasm was present.

"I know." The assassin simply said.

It was not long until the call of sleep began to beckon on Eschuel; the boy murmured a yawning 'good night' and went to sleep. Artemis was too roused to resume his own slumber, and soon after a few moments admiring the starry night, he decided to properly survey the carriage's new addition.

His features are fine and comely, or as comely as a child can be. His body was neither thin nor portly, from his height, Artemis presumed he was about twelve or thirteen years old, though his oversized shirt only serves to make him look smaller. Judging from his fair skin-tone, light eyes and hair, it slightly puzzled Artemis that features that were most common to those who hail from Icewind Dale or Neverwinter was present on this boy.

And there was a certain captivating quality that Artemis can not put a finger to about the boy. Why is he traveling alone? What is his purpose? Why did the halfling merchant allow him to stowaway? Why did he so gingerly treated his back? Is he truly what he seemed to be?

The last question weighted heavily on his mind, as there are countless creatures who can take on a harmless guise or spells that can bewitch the mind to see a different mien, even Artemis had used a wondrous item once that allowed him to do so.

Yet the piece of meat he just ate was not poisoned, and he could not detect any hostility or aggressive inflections from the boy's words. After putting some thought about how peculiar the chance meeting was, and the futility of casting any more suspicions. Artemis decided to abate his reservations. For now.

Artemis woke as dawn rises, the sun's rays stung his eyes; the lack of motion can only mean that the carriage had stopped. Artemis looked through the opened flap and just as he suspected the drawn carriage had stopped at a clearing.

The clearing itself holds patron to more carriages and caravans, neither had similar motifs or color, but the wagons all share a certain sigil, a golden coin embossed with a halo. He did not immediately recognize the significance of the symbol but Artemis strapped his jeweled dagger and Charon's Claw to his hip just in case. It may be unlikely, but the last thing he wanted in the morning is to be sacrificed by some religious cult.

As he jumped down to the soft grass, light footsteps from behind the carriages alerted him, he spun to meet the source of the sound only to see blond hair and blue eyes, Eschuel, carrying a tied rabbit, and his left hand was full with a sack of potatoes.

"Good morning!" beamed the boy, obviously happy with his catch.

Artemis replied with a nod. He loosened his grip on his dagger

"Are you hungry? I'm going to make us some stew." He lifted the rabbit happily to emphasize his point.

"Are there others here?" Artemis queried, arms now free from the hilt of his weapon and folded across his chest.

"Well Hildibrand, the merchant of our wagon was here earlier. I think he is still hunting with the rest of the halflings," The boy crouched down, took a pot already filled with water from the leftover fire-site and set it aright again. "There's about two other merchant, one of the merchant, Otho is with his family and an elf called Alondell is traveling with them," Eschuel took a piece of flint and a rock, he clanked them together to start a fire.

"Are we nearing Calimport?" Artemis asked absent-mindedly, not really expecting a valid answer from the boy, whom was finished cutting the potatoes and currently skinning the rabbit.

"Hildibrand said we're going to arrive in one, -two day's journey or so, but we're no in Calimshan yet." Eschuel stirred the newly-made stew, occasionally taking little tastes and nips; until finally, he took a bowlful of the fragrant broth and gave it to Artemis, whom accepted it readily but did not ate it immediately.

"What's wrong?" The boy asked, a clear look of surprise splayed on his face.

"You should eat too." Artemis pointed his spoon to the steaming pot.

Upon hearing those words, Eschuel's blue eyes lit up, and happily took some soup for himself. Artemis can't help but thought that if Eschuel's smile got any wider, it would surely tear his face.

"Well then, dig in!" The boy exclaimed happily. A spoonful already made its way to his mouth, swallowed without a moment's hesitation.

Satisfied to find that there were no poison in the soup, Artemis began to eat as well. The broth was clear and sweet, with the rabbit meat tender and flavorful; the potatoes are cooked just right, with soft tuber-flesh that retained its bite. Eschuel then took some bread from a sack nearby and broke it in half, he plopped his half in his bowl and gave the other half to Artemis.

The two ate in relative silence, but the dour miasma from last night had more or less, dissipated. Artemis was not sure if this was wise, as an air of friendliness can make way to more questions, questions that he loathed to answer.

Before the situation can present itself however, Artemis was greeted with more footsteps and boisterous conversation.

"It's the others!" Eschuel put his half-finished food aside, stood up, and then waved his hand to the caravan owners. Artemis surveyed the newcomers of the clearing; Hildibrand, the master of their wagon was in deep conversation with an older halfling, which he presumed to be Otho, two children who immediately clung to the man confirmed his theory.

An elf then appeared from the bush tickets behind the halflings, he was a tall fellow with long brown hair and almond shaped green eyes, he wore green leather armor, a curved longbow strapped on his back, and a wicked looking saber was present on his hip. This man must be Alondell. From his posture and ever-alert stance, Artemis knew that the elf was no common traveler, and potentially a dangerous one.

The halfling troupe seemed hungry enough, and the children bounded straight to the cooking pot, and then began to ask permission for food from Eschuel in the most grand manner that children do.

"Okay, okay! There's enough for everyone!" The older boy said throwing his hands in the air in mock defeat, completely overwhelmed by the verbal assault and playful begging from the eager children.

Eschuel then distributed the stew to everyone. The breakfast scene was far from the quiet, filled with chatter and filial mirth; even the quiet elf smiled occasionally and even joined in on some parts of the conversation. As content as he was being a silent observer, Artemis had to ask his caravan master where their bearings are.

"How long until Calimport?"

The halfling merchant looked at Artemis with surprise, his mouth full; he swallowed and smiled.

"Well, we're currently in Wealdath, sticking close with the Trade Way. Calimshan's perhaps just a day or two's distance." The halfling then resumed eating. From the corner of his eye Artemis can almost see Eschuel silently mouthing a sentence, which he would guess to be 'I told you so'.

The conversation seemed to die down along with the depleted food; the halfling company seemed content to just bask in the afterglow of a full stomach, none spoke with any purpose, only infrequent remarks regarding the chef's prowess and the rustling of trampled grass as the two halfling boys started a game of tag. The chef himself gazed on the murals on the sides of the caravan.

"The golden coin with a lady in it, that's the symbol of Waukeen right?" Eschuel pointed at one of the colorful wagon's side.

The older halfling, Otho, snorted a grunt of approval.

"Don't mind my silent trading partner here boy, he's just lost his tongue since they've been used too much for reprimandin' two cheeky goblins!" Hildibrand pointed at the running children to emphasize his attempt at jest.

"Ah, but my friend here has been to busy with trading and traveling all over Faerûn that he neglected the finer points of life. The joys of a family." Otho replied ruefully and ruffled the curls of one of his children; a small smile was on his face.

"You mean the joys of being henpecked, if you meant that then I've seen many joys from Rosie directed to you!" Hildibrand laughed heartily. Artemis half-expected Otho to strike the younger merchant for his insolence, but the bonds of friendship seemed to be stronger in this instance, as Otho joined his friend's laughter in earnest.

Morning made way to day; both the merchants consulted their maps and discussed possible shortcuts and alternate routes to Calimport. The elf hunter, Alondell; decided to gather some game for the company's supper, Eschuel and the two children followed suit, only to be stopped by Alondell. Much bargaining and pleading ensued, until the hunter finally relented, gave them a list written in a piece of parchment.

From the halfling children's many 'aws' and 'schucks', Artemis can only presume that the tasks that have been given to them are quite menial in nature. Eschuel called to Artemis on an offer to help them, which Artemis declined with a simple 'no'.

With the two merchant in deep conversation, and with the rest of the party gone, Artemis walked to his carriage, sat down, he took a small solid object wrapped in felt cloth and thumbed it in contemplation. His mind was racing as he briefly thought on summoning the Nightmare that is attuned to the particular totem and make his way alone to Calimport. With the tireless infernal horse, he was sure he would arrive at daybreak tomorrow.

But Artemis was in no rush, and the journey to Calimport was something that he truly did not want to be over too hastily, the initial feeling of comfort that he derived from a lesser-paced life than before was starting to settle in his mind.

He felt a slight telepathic prod in his temple, the dull intrusion of disgust flitted through his mind. Perhaps a decade ago he would agree to the intelligent sword's reprimand, but now he was tired, not unto life itself, but unto his old lifestyle. The attempt at reason rang hollow against his mind, Artemis knew that his weariness was not the only thing that held him from simply going away from the caravan. He put the figurine away, and stepped out of the drawn carriage. The two halfling boys have made their way back, and were as busy with chatting amongst themselves as they were separating some berries from its stem. Artemis saw no sign of Eschuel.

He took a small handful of the picked berries, which immediately brought a chorus of jumbled 'heys' and 'no fair'. Artemis paid no heed to their protests, and began eating the small fruit. So carefree and innocent, where their greatest injustice imaginable to children happens only when something is taken from them; Artemis thought, how simplistic and blissful such a life is. His younger self would scoff at the notion of such whimsical thoughts and desire, but right now, Artemis saw no harm in such contemplations. He felt different, but it was not a bad feeling.

Day made way to dusk. The warmer air of the afternoon was quite chilled because of the blowing breeze; the sun was starting to dip down, its shafts of light broke through the trees, flooding the clearing with orange. Sitting on one of the logs surrounding the campfire, after they had finished their chores, Artemis was inevitably a suitable playmate for the two active halfling children, whom now were fast asleep on the other logs. The game was a simple who-can-throw-the farthest, and he obliged without complaints. The static game was far too stationary for the boys' liking and they soon added many new rules which thankfully, Artemis thought, does not involve him running around, doing odd handstands or something of that sort. As pliable was his mood at that time, Artemis was certain that he would not be joining any tag-games anytime soon.

Would it be like this if he will have children, mornings of quiet tenure and evenings of filial gathering? Family was a subject Artemis only thought briefly, which only recently he had thought more about it during and after his relationship with Calihye, and after Memnon.

Thirsty and dusty, Artemis decided that he could break his vigil over the sleeping children for refreshments a while. He walked past the clearing's edge to the deeper part of the forest; the trees of Wealdath are numerous as they are ancient. Jarlaxle once said the largest congregation of surface elves can be found deeper anon, and some don't take too kindly for strangers. What a paradoxical statement from someone whose race and upbringing relies on sheer betrayal and paranoia, Artemis mused.

It was not long until he stumbled upon a secluded dell surrounded by a formation of pine. The small body of water seems peaceful enough, with the dusk-light flitting through the leaves, it is a beautiful sight; one Artemis has not seen before. He slowly stepped forward, cradled the cool water and began to drink. As his thirst is slaked and his face refreshed by the waters, Artemis noticed a slight movement and heard something more than a rustle of leaves on his left flank. They are undeniably footsteps, silent and muffled, but there.

"I hear you. Come out." Artemis said to the would-be interlopers, slowly facing the source of the sound as he speaks.

The tree formation was eerily empty, an incredible silence hung in the moist air. If Artemis had not heard the intruder's initial presence, he would have never realized before it is too late. His hands went to the jeweled dagger and Charon's Claw hilt, readying them to be drawn on the fly.

Then out of the interlacing greens and olives, a hooded figure suddenly materialized followed by a female one closely, both with bows drawn, arrows notched and no room for negotiation. They were elves. They are guardians. And they are vengeful.

7


	3. Chapter 2: The Young And The Restless

The female elf let loose her arrow; Artemis angled his dagger to intercept the arrowhead at an oblique angle to deflect it harmlessly, the arrowhead was slick, Artemis caught a whiff of poison on it. He rolled to the side as more arrows flew from the pair, he willed Charon's Claw to aid him, and aid him the sword did. Opaque, black smoke shoots forth from the blade, encasing the male assailant and obstructed the other's line of sight.

Maintaining the chaos out of the pair's broken formation; Artemis zoomed through between them and let loose a snap-kick to the female elf, immediately he closed in onto her and aimed a dagger-slash to her left shoulder. The elf moved out of the way with a grunt, but the dagger had nicked flesh and drew blood, little, but sufficient.

Artemis then immediately twisted the elf's arm in a lock until she is completely at his mercy.

"Stop." Artemis issued the now ready male. The female's every struggle to break free proved futile over Artemis's hold. Her partner does not seem fazed with the predicament, but Artemis noticed a slight tremor on his hands.

"You will lay down your arms, and tell me the reason of your attack." Growled the assassin.

"Do your worst human," The male elf spat, "Even after her life has passed, my partner's soul will be claimed by Solonor Thelandira, we do not fear death." The elf then drew out his curved longsword and pointed it at Artemis. The female kept on struggling.

"Brave words," sneered Artemis, "If there will be a soul left for your god to claim," The elf looked perplexed, at hearing the assassin's claim. "Just ask her yourself." And with that, Artemis willed his dagger to start the soul-consuming enchantment, slowly. It achieved Artemis's desired outcome, and the struggling female began shouting words in Elvish. Her partner's eyes went wide and he replied frantically with their native tongue. Artemis has a rudimentary understanding of the elven language, but he is knowledgeable enough to make out words from their conversation such as, 'soul', 'death' and 'stop'.

The male then faced Artemis, his face filled with panic. "Stop whatever you're doing, I will tell you everything!"

"Then tell me what this place is," Artemis gestured the dell with Charon's Claw, "What is so important here, that two elven sentries attacked me." He gazed at the male, "With poison no less." He took an arrow and threw it at the male's feet; while his drain over the female's soul stopped, but not released.

The male elf, hesitated, but then opened his mouth. "The dell you just drank from is a scrying mirror for our community, it is a delicate thing, and but a small ripple will dispel the magic." Artemis nodded a silent motion for the elf to continue.

The elf did not avert his pained gaze from his partner. "We were tasked to divert and subdue whoever disturbed the waters." Artemis looked at him in a scrutinizing manner, sensing more to the story. "The arrows are coated with foxglove nectar; they induce sleep, no more!" The elf looked down upon the arrow, then up to Artemis. "Please release her, that's all that we were tasked to do!" The elf's voice broke as tears began to coat his eyes. "We were aggressive only because it has been a second time that the waters are disturbed today!"

Artemis let go of the female's arm, and nudged her gently with the dagger's pommel. She immediately bolted to her partner's direction, and the male crushed her in a desperate embrace, whispering soothing words in her ear.

"Twice you say?" Artemis queried, whilst severing the supernatural ties between the female elf's soul and his vampiric weapon, and promptly sheathed it alongside his Netherese blade.

"Yes." The female spoke for the first time, her voice raspy. "As Kazieth said, before you came, another had disturbed the waters." The female elf then tried to stand up, aided by his partner, Kazieth. "He was but a human child, and we escorted the child to our home."

The mention of a human child piqued Artemis.

"This child, is he male?" Artemis asked.

"Yes," The elf replied. "Yes, he is." Her legs gradually became steady as the debilitating dweomer was called away from her soul.

"And has he blond hair, with light blue eyes?" Artemis folded his arms, already knowing the answer to that question.

Both the elves have a look of surprise splayed on their faces. "Why yes, yes, he has those features you described." Artemis sighed, and placed his right hand across his face.

"Take me to where you're keeping him." Artemis sighed. It was quite wondrous indeed that a supposedly simple journey would escalate to such a proportion.

"Is he your companion?" Artemis looked at the male elf, Kazieth, and paused for a while, "Yes" was the only reply.

From what he remembered of Jarlaxle's outward musings, The Forest of Tethir, or commonly known as Wealdath, has three layers of vegetation; the deepest layer can only be traversed by skilled rangers or druids and the only animals which reside there are magical beasts. The first two outer layers are quite mundane to pass through but are otherwise similar in appearance. Artemis can only assume that the elves would logically reside in the deepest parts of the forest.

Both the elves are skilled trackers no doubt, they moved languidly and with a grace that seems unmatched as they wove through bushes, stepped over roots and discerned their path over the verdant wood. Artemis was most silent during the walk whilst the two elves often conversed silently in Elvish; nothing important or life-threatening from whatever Artemis can understand. Inside however, Artemis was tumultuous; why was he so adamant on getting Eschuel back? He may as well be a malevolent creature in disguise. He debated various reasons in his mind, but only one reason seemed plausible to him; Artemis saw himself in the boy, for he was around Eschuel's age when he was in service to that thrice-damned merchant, his first travel, with nobody to offer him solace. It was not a pleasant journey, one that is filled with lashes and worse. A cruel fate, but nevertheless it was his own. He did not want such a fate to befall on the boy, not out of some paternal instinct; because he was sure there are worse hells that will come unto Eschuel after childhood has ended. In a way he cares, an emotion that Artemis rarely shared to most; the least he can do is to bring Eschuel safely to the caravan.

The sudden stop by the pair snapped Artemis out of his inward thoughts, he looked around, more trees are dotted the region but they are considerably older and taller than the ones he had passed before.

"Is this the place?" Artemis asked his guides. He noticed that some of the trunks held wooden huts; wooden huts that strangely do not seem to be made by wood, as the timber itself were warped to create circular and other odd shapes. He saw female elves carrying ochre-colored jars, unlike their urban kin, they seemed ethereal and their strides so light, it seemed that they are gliding.

"Welcome to Eldanyrr, stranger." The female elf motioned, "Our home." a nostalgic look was all that is visible on her face.

"We will take you to Mithrinne; she is the Forest Master responsible for this area." Kazieth said and looked at Artemis sternly, motioning him to follow.

The elf took him to an earthen mound far away from the congregation of the colossal trees. In a sudden moment, a brown-clad elf appeared from the mound, as if she melded with the soil.

The female druid smiled.

"I apologize for my people's rather violent actions, human." Her voice was melodic and smooth. "We were only cautious of things since a certain event has garnered out attention."

Artemis nodded in silence. "I am looking for someone. A boy." Mithrinne's knowing look turned into surprise at the mention of the word 'boy'.

"You know of the child? The one whom stumbled to our scrying water?" The druid asked. Artemis nodded again in confirmation.

"He is my companion." Artemis said, "I'd like to take him back." The assassin finished the sentence with dread finality, words which left no room for argument.

Mithrinne nodded in acceptance. "I can discern no lies from your words, stranger."

"You may take him. Rest assured not a hair of him has been harmed." The druid gave a slight a nod to Kazieth.

Artemis waited in silence; it was not long until Kazieth came back with Eschuel on his side. The boy's face lit up with a smile at the sight of Artemis and waved to him, he nodded in return.

"We should be going. It's getting late." Artemis said to the boy. Eschuel's attempt at a reply was cut off by Mithrinne. "Wait stranger," The elf's impassive face took on a new expression, one that is borne out of desperation. "I understand that you are quite capable at defending yourself," The two elven sentries blushed upon hearing the druid's comment. "However, I have a favor to ask of you."

"I've no time for this." Artemis turned away, but stopped when he felt a slight tug on his _piwafwi_. Artemis looked back and it was the flaxen-haired boy holding the end of his cape.

"I think we should hear her out," Eschuel said, his blue eyes pleaded with him.

"Fine." Artemis sighed, and Eschuel's smile grew wider. "But I make no promise to do anything." Artemis curtly said, curbing the boy's growing eagerness.

Upon hearing that, the elf continued her explanation, "The Starfire Mounts near the northern Wealdath was the home of a female silver dragon in service to Bahamut." She pointed north to emphasize her point. "Two decades and six years ago, Fey'ri armies attacked Wealdath, it was a battle that we won, but our losses are grave and many good men were lost."

Artemis sighed, not content with the thought of dragons but nodded all the same. Mithrinne also nodded, albeit apathetically and continued.

"Amidst the carnage, a pregnant human came and she employed healing services much more potent than any of our clerics. Only after a few weeks later, as she was giving birth, she reverted back to her true form,"

"So you want us to get you a dragon egg!" Eschuel said boldly as his smile widened.

"No, not quite," Mithrinne chuckled briefly, which brought a blush to the boy's cheeks. "The egg has hatched two years after it's 'birth'. Our people has had a friendly relationship with the silver dragon since then, and she often brought her wyrmling to learn the ways of our people or to help us in any way, albeit, not in their true forms."

The boy's smile turned to a grin. "So we are going to _meet_ a dragon?" Both of Eschuel's hands are clasped in anticipation.

"Excuse me, 'we'?" Artemis interjected, there was no way he would voluntarily immerse himself in the affairs of dragons, after the harrowing encounter with the dracolich and the two copper dragons, Artemis has had enough with the scaly-kind.

"Yes stranger," the druid nodded. "The favor which I am about to ask you involves meeting that particular dragon, Zelkhyr." The druid did not break her gaze over Artemis as she said those words.

"Why?" Artemis spoke vehemently as he stared coldly at the elf. "Did you not just say that the dragon visits this place periodically?" He folded his arms, completely oblivious and a complete reverse to Eschuel's visible excitement.

"That is exactly the problem," Mithrinne now seemed genuinely perturbed. "We have not heard from her for almost a year now. She is an old dragon of great strength so we did not pay heed to her and her son's disappearance for a short while, but now I feel that something has happened."

"I refuse." Artemis curtly answered; his expression impassive. A great silence followed suit. Artemis saw the druid's pained expression, but did not pay heed to it and started walking away. He motioned Eschuel to follow, but the boy's disappointed face stopped him.

"Come, it is getting dark." Artemis again motioned for the boy to follow.

"No," Eschuel said fiercely. "Tell Hildibrand that they can go without me. I'll catch up somehow."

"You cannot go," Artemis tried to reason, his voice tinged with annoyance. "Unless you can fly, The mountain will claim you." Artemis walked closer to him and crouched so that his face was level with Eschuel's. "You will die."

Artemis knew what he said was not a threat, but rather the simple truth.

"I will go, alone if I have to," The boy looked at Artemis. "But I will go." His blue eyes unblinking, his resolve unchallenged. "And I _won't _die."

Artemis was surprised to say the least. Beneath the layer of innocence and naïveté, it was rare for him to witness steadfast determination in a boy as young as Eschuel; a newfound sense of respect began to settle inside Artemis for the boy, the boy whom was a constant reminder of how Artemis was when he was but a child himself.

One particular memory came briefly. One where he refused the lecherous merchant's _request_, even amidst the threat of lash and cord; he remained adamant to the end, even biting off the end of one of the merchant's stubby fingers. His face remained bruised for two weeks but it was worth it, the fat man never tried to touch him again. He was thirteen when it happened. He was not afraid of what Eschuel would do to him if cornered, although the image of the boy biting his finger was quite amusing. Morbidly amusing.

Surprisingly, the sudden memory surge had calmed him somewhat, and even though Artemis cannot fathom the boy's interest on meeting a dragon, and against his better judgment, he can just hope that the decision he was going to make would not result in Eschuel's demise, or more importantly, his own death.

"Eschuel, you can go and meet this dragon of yours," Eschuel began to open his mouth but Artemis quickly continued. "However you can only go under _my_ watch. And do exactly as I say during the climb." Eschuel nodded vigorously at Artemis's stern terms, satisfied at his younger companion's compliance, Artemis managed to give the boy a quick nod before turning to face Mithrinne the druid.

"Where is the lair?" Artemis said, his arms crossed on his chest, he flipped his _piwafwi_ hood over his head.

The druid seemed ecstatic but remained composed, she ran a hand over her hair and breathed a sigh of relief.

"It is not as high as you would think it be," The elven woman took two silvery-white scrolls bound with a cord of blue. "These are the scrolls she gave us as a contingency." Artemis and Eschuel both took the scrolls.

"What does it do?" Eschuel replied, fiddling with the flayed edges, eager to know.

"The spell written on those scrolls is in Draconic, they will enable you to take to the air at increased speeds,"

"Oh," Eschuel simply said, excitement draining from his face; he shrugged and pocketed the scroll. Artemis quirked an eyebrow at Eschuel's blasé attitude towards the spell-containing scroll, but dwelt on it shortly.

"How long will the enchantment last?" Artemis unfurled the scroll, the fabric smooth, and the Draconic writing meticulous; Artemis despised reading in Draconic, but he can admire the arcane words present in his flight scroll.

"Around twenty minutes or so, more than enough to traverse the slopes and arrive at the lair." Mithrinne explained, a satisfied look was on her face.

"Fine." Artemis began walking north, "Come." He motioned for Eschuel to follow, and with a flick of dark green hood over his golden hair, the boy followed suit.

Artemis only hoped that silver dragons are less of an annoyance than their copper cousins.

Artemis and Eschuel arrived at the base of Zelkhyr's mountain at a most opportune time. The diminishing light from the sun provides shadowy illumination at best, but otherwise enough for them to see and the hail winds are not as cold as Artemis would imagine.

Artemis consulted the map Mithrinne had given him, the crudely drawn map and labeled in rudimentary Draconic gave only the barest details on where the entrance to the silver dragon's lair; and Artemis had to ask for Eschuel's second opinion if he can make out the supposed legends and its descriptors, which in turn, baffled the boy as well. The 'Belthazzar'-whoever he is, whom supposedly signed the bottom of the map and possibly the one who created it, was, by Artemis's judgment, a simpleton. Artemis cannot possibly understand how the elves are able to discern the location of Zelkhyr's lair using this map.

The assassin unceremoniously stuffed the unhelpful piece of parchment into his pack, and surveyed the mountain. The many depressions and crags of the mountain are confusing him, and the dull white sheen from the thin blanket of snow played havoc with his depth perception.

Artemis looked away from the mountain for a while; while Eschuel studied the mountain intently as well, occasionally narrowing his eyes at some point of the mountain or another. With each moment they waste peering over the tall peaks, the winds have gotten colder and visibility has turned for the worst, Artemis now seriously considered utilizing the scrolls given by the druid to at least fly up, and find their bearings from there. After debating inwardly at a time, Artemis decided that the particular course of action was for the best.

He took the gray scroll from his pack, and unfurled it with care. Artemis recited the Draconic verses and as the writings of the scroll vanished into dripping ink, he felt a slight buoyant feeling engulfing his limbs; he did the same to Eschuel, who seemed quite nervous at the experience.

"Follow me." Artemis told Eschuel, as he began soaring upwards.

The winds are much more vigorous near the peak, and even Artemis, whose shade-infused body wards off cold, had started to feel quite chilly. Artemis wondered how it is possible for Eschuel to cope, but the boy seemed to not be bothered, his cheeks are flushed, but the only tell-tale sign of cold was that. The boy seemed to be quite comfortable with the temperature.

"Look," Eschuel grabbed Artemis's cloak, "There, do you think that could be it?" Eschuel directed Artemis's attention at a large crevice surrounded by a formation of rocks.

Both made their way to the aforementioned crevice, Artemis can feel a gust of warm air shooting forth from the cave-mouth. He can feel Eschuel hovering above him, his eagerness to delve like a warm beacon; like Wanderlust personified, Artemis mused.

The cave was dark, the moonlight was of no help and there was no other illumination available save for a lone, flickering lantern about fifty feet from where both of them landed. The feeling of smooth flooring concluded Artemis's thought that this was an entrance of some structure, a tomb maybe, or a Wight-crypt, or maybe even Zelkhyr's lair. Artemis guessed it was the latter.

Artemis took small, deliberate steps; each stride more for grip and orientation rather than stealth. He was going to tell Eschuel to grip the end of his cape as he moved forward, but a passing breeze to his side can only mean that the boy had already moved past him. Eschuel moved both with haste and tact, coupled with buoyant and unburdened steps; Artemis was yet again surprised, the boy moved as if he can _see _in complete darkness and it was Artemis who was actually following Eschuel to the light source.

Artemis unfastened the chains of the hanging lantern and held it in front of him. The light exuded is quite bright, extending conically about sixty feet. The lantern itself is quite intricate, adorned with small bloodstones and the frame itself is made of some opaque, gray metal, probably platinum.

Artemis shone the lantern upwards, marveling at an actually dome-like ceiling, complete with frescoes of a large dragon fighting another dragon, albeit with five different, multicolored heads.

"Bahamut and Tiamat." Artemis whispered, Eschuel then looked up.

"It's beautiful," Eyes still fixated on the fresco. He then looked at Artemis, and grinned. "I guess we're in her lair now."

"It seems to be that way." Artemis confirmed.

The pair made their way through a large, open room. The snubbed torches and broken lanterns betray an otherwise hospitable room. Three large reclining chairs are situated between a large, wooden table; the chair's once lustrous burgundy now is reduced to dusty russet. At the center lies a hacked statue of two silver dragons, one base much larger than the other, Artemis mouthed 'Zelkhyr Silvertouched' upon reading a tablet in front of it. The smaller dragon's identifier was scratched beyond decipherment.

Large tapestries adorn the rock walls, each tapestry tells a different part of a larger story. One has a drawing of an egg, while the next tapestry shows the egg hatching, revealing a young dragon.

"It's a chronicling art work." Eschuel said, his gaze flitting from one tapestry to the next. Artemis silently agreed, he then motioned for the boy to follow.

Both decided to choose the corridor on his right, solely on the reason that the corridor appears to be in better condition; golden-illuminating lanterns are still left on, and the thick layer of dust prevalent on the marble floors seemed to be non-existent. A large oak-bound door is the only door at the end of the hallway.

Realizing that going through this door is their only way forward; Artemis gave the lantern to Eschuel, put a finger over his mouth as the universal symbol for silence, and began searching the door for traps. He began by checking the bolt-lock mechanism, touching it intently.

"What are you doing?" Eschuel peered at Artemis's careful hands.

"Checking for traps or alarms," Finding nothing unusual, the assassin began fiddling at the large lock.

"Is it locked?" Eschuel asked.

"Not anymore." The lock gave a resounding 'click', and Artemis opened the door.

The door gave way to a much warmer room. In the middle of the room is a mound of gold and silver coins; occasionally dotted with multi-colored baubles. A sleeping reptile-like creature as big as a black bear-but not of the same color-lies on top of it, the creature's scales are lustrous silver. Its curved, hoary wings are folded backwards; the dragon's frilled neck was curled atop its slim body. Artemis guessed that this dragon must be the prodigal son Mithrinne was talking about.

"It doesn't seem too big for a dragon." Eschuel whispered gingerly to Artemis, fascination apparent in his blue eyes.

"You're not so big yourself," A gravelly yet juvenile voice from the direction of the dragon startled the pair.

"Kid." The waking silver dragon yawned.


	4. Chapter 3: Silver Alliances

"Well met."

The young silver dragon yawned absent-mindedly and stood up, his frills rippling like the smallest of waves as he began moving towards the two 'guests' from the dune of gold. With each step however, the dragon seemed to get even smaller, its wings disappeared and melded to its back, its silver scales turn to alabaster skin until the dragon's face and body turned itself into that of a young boy of about ten or eleven years old; complete with brown, messy hair framing silver eyes.

The transformation garnered an awestruck gasp from Eschuel. Artemis, on the other hand, whom has witnessed these transformations before, naturally, was not fazed.

"I'm Belthazzar Silvertouched," The dragon-now-turned-boy, Belthazzar bowed. "What brings you two to my humble home?" His lustrous, growling voice now a soft, high pitched one.

"We are looking for Zelkhyr," Artemis stated bluntly. He caught a slight twitch on Belthazzar's expression at the mention of the name. "Your mother, I presume?"

"Yes," The dragon-child somberly replied. He had a faraway look on his silver eyes as he said those words. "Yes she was."

"So she's-"

"Dead,"

"Then our business is concluded." Said Artemis, arms crossed over his chest. "We shall leave you be then." Artemis concluded the pleasantries with a slight bow.

"You can't leave now, there's a snow storm out there." Both Artemis and Eschuel looked at the dragon in disbelief. "Can't you hear the snow pounding away the cave-walls?"

"I'm not hearing anything." Eschuel said, a small smile pursed on his lips. "And my ears are keen." He tapped his right earlobe for added emphasis.

"As keen as mine?" Belthazzar replied with an amused look.

"Maybe even better." Eschuel shrugged. The dragon grinned upon hearing Eschuel's rebuttal.

"It seems you're in a more talkative mood than your friend." The silver dragon cocked his head at Artemis's direction.

"Let's talk more in the guest chamber." Belthazzar motioned the pair to follow.

While his young companion was more than eager to follow Belthazzar, Artemis was in the verge of voicing his disagreement. He relented after concluding that the night, snow-storm or not, would prove too perilous for a straightforward climb; and their chances would be better some other time. Artemis then followed suit.

Belthazzar led them to a slightly smaller room. Instead of tapestries however, canvassed paintings of forests and trees adorn the quarried walls. The room looked like a miniature of the grand hall outside, but instead of three, large chairs, four burgundy-colored recliners are situated circling a short, wooden table. A fragrant-smelling gold brazier is on top of said table; and a lone crystal chandelier hangs on top, providing bright illumination over the room.

"Make yourselves at home." Belthazzar patted the soft padding of the couch; he then opened a cupboard containing a porcelain teapot with a matching tray of teacups. "Tea, anyone?"

Both Artemis and Eschuel's parched throats urged them to take the offered beverage. Artemis found the situation highly amusing; it was a refreshing change to commune with a dragon that is not so egoistical in its endeavors. The copper dragon sisters' condescending attitude does not bode well with Artemis; why Jarlaxle tolerates them, is one of the mysteries of the particular drow that Artemis cannot fathom.

While Artemis was still holding the teacup in his hand, Eschuel had begun to sip at the lukewarm drink. A sip later, Eschuel eyes widened with surprise, and in a flash, downed the rest of his tea.

"It's delicious, no?" Eschuel can only nod vigorously at Belthazzar's question, he smiled, and poured his young guest another cupful. Artemis tried the drink himself, the sweet-but not overtly so-liquid passed down his throat smoothly.

"So, how old are you exactly Belthazzar?" Eschuel asked, thoroughly satisfied with the drink.

Belthazzar looked at Eschuel, his silver eyes lighting up. "I have lived for two decades," He gave two fingers for emphasis, "And spent four winters here." He added another two.

"In layman's terms, I'm currently twenty four years-old." The young dragon concluded his reply with a smile.

"Ah," Eschuel clicked his tongue in amazement. "I'm half your age."

"Well, not exactly… I'm still considered a child in Draconic years," said Belthazzar sheepishly.

Eschuel nodded knowingly. "So your body right now, is an alternate body?"

"Yes, and no…" Belthazzar then closed his eyes momentarily, human eyes turned to those of a dragon's when he opened them. His skin replaced by silver scales, and white, gristly wings sprouted forth from Belthazzar's backside, his neck grew longer until Belthazzar the human child, became Belthazzar the dragon.

"I can assume any form I want to," the dragon's juvenile voice warped and warbled, turning bestial yet regal at the same time. "But I think this form is the most inconspicuous, and I like it." He began flexing his wings in mid-stretch "I almost forgot, what are your names?"

"My name is Eschuel." The dragon then looked at Artemis, waiting for his answer from the silent man.

"Artemis." Said the man, not preferring to share his last name.

"Just Artemis?"

Artemis replied only with a nod. The dragon's bulky shoulders shrugged and turned his head to Eschuel.

"Your name, are you aware that it's not Common tongue?" Belthazzar said, with a glint in his silver eyes.

Eschuel jerked quite visibly upon hearing Belthazzar's comment. Artemis saw anxiety splayed on the boy's face, the shifting of eyes, the excessive face-touching, the stuttering of words. He could go on, but obviously the boy is hiding something and does not wish it to be found out.

"Yes," Eschuel managed a weak affirmative. "It's Celestial."

"I knew it!" Belthazzar seemed pleased with the answer. "The Angel-tongue is beautiful and lilting, I personally like Draconic better, but if I have to be named in any other language, I would definitely choose Celestial." Belthazzar laughed with gusto.

"Thank you." Was all Eschuel said, but he managed to give the dragon a small smile in return.

"One of your parents is a cleric then?" Asked Artemis. He once heard that Priests are usually fluent in such language of the Planes.

"Well not priests per se," Eschuel scratched the back of his head. "But they have quite the rapport with the gods."

"So they're Divine Emissaries? Paladins? Favored Souls?" Belthazzar eagerly asked.

"Uh, what are those? They're not Paladins though, if that is what you mean." Eschuel replied doggedly.

Quite apathetic to the gods and organized religion in general, Artemis too, was only familiar with 'Paladin'.

The clinking of porcelain as the two guests finished their tea was the only sound emanating from the guest room.

"I'm tired. Can we stay the night here Artemis?" Eschuel yawned, and rubbed his moist eyes, the boy's words are slurred and his eyelids heavy with unrequited sleep.

It was certainly too late for a climb down the mountain, and Artemis saw no other option than to appreciate more of the young dragon's hospitality. He nodded to Eschuel in affirmation.

"Can you spare us a room?" Artemis asked.

"Of course!" The silver dragon bellowed, mirth apparent in his answer. "However," Belthazzar let the sentence dangling. Even with dragons, Artemis can still tell when a fellow is being mischievous. There are signs, and for dragons, -silver dragons in this case, the movement of its frill tells all. "I would require payment for your lodgings."

Here we go again, Artemis thought.

"What do you want?" He asked. Aggravation apparent in his tone. "Gold?"

Belthazzar simply laughed. "No, nothing like that. I have enough gold… for now," The dragon patted an unremarkable-looking pouch on his hip, which Artemis can only assume is Belthazzar's money pouch.

"To put it straight, I'm bored of this cave," The dragon stroked the cave-wall. "I have read my entire mother's collected tomes twice or three times already. Books and gems can only interest you for so long." Belthazzar then turned his frilled head to Artemis.

"That is why I would like to join you in your journey. Wherever the destination!" The dragon stated exuberantly. After a particularly pregnant pause, Belthazzar hastily added a "Please_._"

"Then you are out of luck," Artemis crossed his arms over his chest. "Eschuel and I are not an adventuring party or anything of that sort." He coldly said.

"We are however, currently traveling to Calimshan on a merchant caravan." Artemis said, cutting off the dragon before he could reply. "And it is not my say to neither allow nor disallow you, Belthazzar, to travel to Calimshan with us."

"I do have a feeling that our caravan master would be more inclined to take in a human child, than a dragon." Artemis stood up and made in way out of the room.

"I'll be in the grand hall." Said the retreating figure.

"Is he always that stoic?" Belthazzar asked Eschuel, who did not seem as drowsy as before.

The flaxen boy shrugged, "I guess."

"_I guess?_" The dragon queried.

"We just met yesterday."

"How-,"

"I'll tell you the full story tomorrow," Eschuel let out another yawn. "Right now I need sleep." He grinned lazily. "Do you have spare rooms?"

"I have cushions in my chambers," Belthazzar said. "Unless you mind-,"

Eschuel nodded with fervor. "Cushions sound like the Seven Heavens right now, Belthazzar." He patted the silver dragon's shoulder. "Lead on, mighty drake!"

A nudge roused Artemis from his sleep, his now opened eyes revealed Eschuel crouching at his side. Two covered trays of steaming food lies beside him.

"Morning," The boy said cheerfully. Artemis groggily gave a nod.

"Belthazzar is getting ready," He gave a tray to Artemis. "Probably fitting his entire hoard into that 'Bag of Holding' he always carries on his hip." Eschuel laughed softly and scooped some scrambled eggs into his mouth.

"He probably could," Artemis replied, a knowing look splayed on his face.

Seeing Eschuel's bewildered expression, Artemis explained that the 'Bag of Holding' is an enchanted, extradimensional conduit, and can store numerous items of encumbering size and still will retain its measly weight.

"Ah," Eschuel nodded slowly and swallowed. "That _is _convenient!" He let out a laugh and took a bite from his loaf of bread.

"_Spoken like a true adventurer, Artemis!_" A muffled but otherwise roaring voice shocked both of them. From the continuous low chuckle, the source approximately resounded from Belthazzar's chambers.

"Could he really have heard us from there?" Eschuel bemusedly asked.

"_Yes I could_!" Another stifled, but still equally loud growl, echoed from Belthazzar's chamber.

Artemis's only reply was an irritated murmur which Eschuel guess would be: 'dragons'.

Belthazzar finally emerged from his room after the two have finished their meal. The dragon wore form-fitting leather armor, two rings are visible in each of his clawed fingers and the Bag of Holding was yet again, dangled on his hip. Despite his size, his mischievous demeanor and rather boisterous nature, Eschuel cannot help but think how regal and statuesque his new friend was; in one of those rare instances when the dragon is not talking.

"Are we all set then?" The dragon asked.

Both of his guests nodded.

"Then let us go," The dragon turned around. "Follow me."

"The exit's the other way." Eschuel said to the retreating figure.

"That was the entrance," Artemis said, already following the dragon. "There's another exit."

The dragon gave Artemis his outstretched thumb.

Belthazzar led them to a cliff overlooking the entirety of Tethir Forest. He pointed at a set of craggy rocks descending down on the side of Zelkhyr Mountain. Artemis focused his vision on them, realizing that they are not natural formations, and quite possibly, footholds. They are around fifteen feet wide each, with only the slightest fluff of downy snow covering them.

"I know it's not much," Belthazzar quipped. "But it is much better than going down from whence you came earlier." Belthazzar gave them a nervous laugh.

Both Artemis and Eschuel looked at the dragon ludicrously, much better in this case does not seem to be a better alternative than their flight yesterday, both not understanding the dragon's eerie logic.

"Don't worry though," The dragon patted Eschuel's back gently. "I'll fly nearby in case any of you fall."

"How reassuring." Artemis said aloud. Eschuel giggled upon hearing Artemis's sarcastic comment.

The first ten footholds are quite close-placed, which Artemis and Eschuel are able to cross with relative ease. That is not the case for the subsequent stone steps, which now crudely resembles flattened boulders more than footholds. True to his word, Belthazzar took to the air and languidly flew around the two climbers.

"Who made these steps?" Eschuel said heavily, after crossing a particularly slippery crag-stone. "These are _not_ natural at all!" Eschuel grunted after braving another one of the treacherous footholds.

"Less talking, more climbing." Belthazzar said in a sing-song voice, lazily executing sweeping aerial corkscrews and dips. "We're halfway there, so don't fret!"

"Easy for you to say," Artemis said sternly to the hovering Belthazzar, hoisting himself down on one of the stones. Which the dragon replied with more acts of acrobatics. It annoyed Artemis to no end.

Eschuel took a breather on one of the bigger steps and laughed at a particularly awkward somersault Belthazzar had executed. Or he tried too, as a sudden gust of wind caused Eschuel to lose his balance. Both Artemis's and Belthazzar's eyes went wide as at one moment he was there, and the next he was gone.

Time slowed to a crawl for Artemis, every palpable nerve firing, every shift in the air felt, every muscle-fiber aching; he unconsciously barked orders at Belthazzar and flung himself downwards to the falling Eschuel's direction. In mid-fall he drew Charon's Claw and stabbed it firmly at the mountain rocks, his falling momentum flew him downwards, but with the Netherese blade plunged, it slowed his descent considerably, slow enough for Artemis to survey where the supposed direction of the boy's fall was and catch him.

Eschuel was nowhere to be found. He looked at every direction but up, ignoring the telepathic displeasure Charon's Claw directed at him for using the sword as a mere tool, he did not see a falling figure or even a landed figure down on the ground below.

"Belthazzar!" Artemis bellowed, still descending with the sword's hilt. "Can you see him?" Artemis looked up as he growled the orders.

"I can't-," Belthazzar's large cry stopped in mid-sentence.

"Belthazzar!" Artemis bellowed again, face scrunched up in confusion. "Can't you what?!" He screamed at the dragon, his gaze still fixated upwards.

Being morning, the sun shone straight to his eye, and so when Artemis saw a winged figure swooping towards him, his first thought was of the silver dragon. He was sorely mistaken. Instead of the clawed fingers of a dragon, Artemis saw human hands. Instead of silver frills, Artemis saw a mop of golden hair, made even brighter by the sun. Eschuel grabbed Artemis's free arm, dragging him up to the air, or at least, trying to. The heavy beating of Eschuel's white, feathery wings was not enough to take them both to higher ground.

"Need a little assistance here, Belthazzar!" Eschuel yelled upwards, sweat stained his knitted brows.

With an almost unbelievable alacrity, Belthazzar Silvertouched dove low, the ripple of the winds visible from his downwards-facing figure, a look of fierce determination visible on the dragon's face. He extended his forelegs to grip Artemis.

Seeing the potentially very painful, Artemis swung his entire body weight backwards and with the aid of the immobile hilt, he hurled himself upwards just when Belthazzar was about to grasp him to safety and let his flipping momentum be absorbed by Belthazzar's back.

Both the dragon and Artemis grunted, the former in surprise, the latter in relief. Belthazzar reared his neck behind, an unreadable expression visible in his silver eyes.

Artemis tried to regain his spent breath, pulled Charon's Claw away from the rock and after a short moment of labored inhalation and exhalation, Artemis looked at Eschuel, then at the dragon.

"Down boy," he pointed at a random spot on the forest.

The flight downwards was unpleasant at best for Artemis who rode on Belthazzar's back; the winds are not kind to those who dare defy it to go down. However, Artemis's turmoil now was more mental than physical. The sight of Eschuel, wings outstretched, flying beside him confirmed a lot of his confusion. The boy must have hidden his wings underneath his overlarge shirt and thus his overtly tender attitude to his back a day ago inside the wagon.

His blasé attitude towards a flight spell was because he himself is able to fly without the spell. There was also his ability to navigate in complete darkness, coupled with his name in the Upper Planes tongue, Artemis was sure the boy is no human-or at least, not partly.

Artemis felt stupid to not make out the obvious clues.

The three of them landed on the first layer of Wealdath. Artemis stretched his aching limbs, while Belthazzar sat prone on the soft, dew-touched undergrowth, not too silently murmuring in Draconic of 'heavy, acrobatic humans who thinks that all dragons like to be mounted.' From what Artemis can decipher. Eschuel hang his head low, blue eyes cast downwards, and wings folded back, obviously guilt-ridden.

"Belthazzar," Artemis roused the dragon from his own thoughts. "Can you hear halflings?"

Belthazzar looked at Artemis quizzically. "Halflings?" Artemis nodded in affirmative. Belthazzar then shrugged, and moved his frilled head left, and then right. He then stopped in mid-turn, a look of surprise slowly appeared.

"Well, what do you know," Belthazzar looked at Artemis, an astonished smile on his silver face. "I do hear halflings," The young dragon mused aloud as he stroked his chin. "Panicky little fellows." He added.

"Are they far away?" Artemis asked, flicking his hood over his head.

"No, not too far," Belthazzar replied. "Perhaps a league west."

Artemis silently stood up, and walked west.

"Come," Artemis said without looking back. Artemis's words were met with silence.

"I suggest you hide those wings," Artemis said, still walking west. Eschuel looked up; a forlorn look was on his face.

"We all have secrets." He then turned his head back, looking at Eschuel. "And yours saved my life." Artemis extended his right hand slightly.

Eschuel met Artemis's hand with is own and shook it once, and then twice. Artemis nodded at the boy, who now lost his uncharacteristically somber face for an ear-splitting grin. He then turned his head to Belthazzar, who now was in his human form and in the midst of covering his leather armor with a red velvet vest.

"Do you have any other clothing in that bag of yours?" Artemis asked. Eschuel's wings have torn through his shirt; the boy now was covering his torso with his cloak.

Belthazzar shook his head despondently, but that expression soon gave way to excitement.

"But I _do_ have a chain shirt lying around here somewhere," Belthazzar stuffed his hand in the bag and pulled out a sparkling, silver armor made of interlocking, small chains. Mithral, Artemis thought.

Belthazzar gave the armor to Eschuel, whom had a surprised look on his face as Belthazzar plopped the chain shirt into his hands.

"This… This shirt," Eschuel astonishedly cradled the shirt, surprised at how impossibly light the garment was, he unfurled it; the individual chains sparkled under the light and tinkled like chimes. Belthazzar then held one end of the shirt with his two small hands and with a grunt great strength, ripped open two holes on the back the armor. Eschuel muttered an excited 'thank you' to the dragon.

"It's Mithral," Belthazzar energetically explained. "Light as cloth, strong as steel!" A thoroughly satisfied look was on the dragon-turned-boy's face.

Eschuel donned the armor, the light-weight armor gave him an unrestricted feel over his movements, and the soft padding underneath the chains ensured comfort and denies chafing. Eschuel flexed his white wings through the rips and folded them close to his body; the boy took his moss-green cloak and clasped it on his shoulders, effectively masking the feathery appendages. He looked at both of his companions with contentment. A satisfied gaze goes to Artemis, and a playful punch to Belthazzar's arm.

"Let's go then." And with that, the three headed west.

Hildibrand Bolgers was generally a pleasant and patient man. As a young halfling making his way across the Trade Way, he has seen his fair share of odd occurrences, whether it be inside, or outside the wagon. However, nothing, not even his seven years of traveling prepared him for two of his charges going missing, one a stoic stranger whose motives are a mystery to him, and the other one a young boy whom almost stopped the caravan by standing in front of it.

It was a great relief for Hildibrand's conscience, as well as his credible reputation as a merchant when the two missing members of the caravan suddenly appeared at the afternoon after the day that they went missing. They even managed to gather some game, vegetables, gold; and apparently, another young traveler with them.

"So where to?" The voice of the aforementioned boy snapped Hildibrand out of his inward revelry. Hildibrand glanced to the source of the voice.

"Well my boy, we are going to cross the Tethir-Calimshan border in two day's journey," Hildibrand said, smoking his ivory-laden pipe. He turned his eyes back to the road. "However, Otho has some business in a small town over the coast, something about buried treasure or the like."

Belthazzar's eyes lit up upon hearing the word 'treasure'.

"What's the town's name?" Belthazzar asked, not bothering to hide his interest regarding the town.

The caravan master thought in silence for a while, he let his left hand stroke his sideburns, until with a snap of his fingers he looked at Belthazzar.

"The town is called Ashenport," The merchant said, his attention already refocused back to the road ahead.

Belthazzar nodded enthusiastically and with a quick 'thank you', he left the driver's coach into the back of the carriage.

"Hey," murmured Eschuel to Belthazzar, the boy motioned him to sit on an empty spot beside him.

"I've got news!" Belthazzar whispered to Eschuel, aware that Artemis, who was sitting opposite them, was fast asleep, glee however, was apparent in his hushed voice.

"Guessing from your face, they must've involved gold or gems." Eschuel said, flicking a finger to Belthazzar's forehead.

"But of course!" The younger boy's silver eyes shone even more with anticipation. "I knew traveling with both of you will give me opportunities to fill out my hoard!" Belthazzar cradled his Bag of Holding lovingly.

"Wyvern." Eschuel teased the dragon.

"Aasimar." The dragon teased the half-celestial back. Eschuel feigned a hurt look before tousling Belthazzar's brown hair, making it even messier-if such a thing were possible. Both of them laughed softly at the jokes.

"So what's the name of the town we're stopping next?" Eschuel grabbed an apple from the provisions barrel beside him and took a bite from it; he muttered an approving hum, the fruit was crisp and it overflowed his mouth with it's tart juices.

"Ashenport," Belthazzar took a bite from the offered fruit. "Funny name, no?" his voice slightly garbled with his mouth full of fruit-flesh.

"I don't know," Eschuel replied. "Sounds like a nice place to me."

- 10 -


	5. Chapter 4: The Last Breaths Of Ashenport

Between the heavy clouds and the endless rain, the caravan might as well be blind. In the occasional flash of lightning, however, as the rain is forced aside by a gust of howling wind, Artemis Entreri whom now is drenched wet with rain can just barely make out the road ahead. A veritable river of mud twists and winds through a copse of gnarled trees and along a rocky coastline battered by white-capped swells.

"Horrible weather." Hildibrand said to Artemis beside him, who was helping the halfling merchant traverse the road. Artemis nodded sincerely, the weather turned from bright, hot day into a wet conflagration of rain and wind.

Eschuel peeked out from the drawn carriage and beyond, visible only by the brightest thunderbolts, stands a town. From what the boy can distinguish, the buildings are old and patched, and the roofs are shingled peaks. Just another sea-side village, it seems, but something about it sets Eschuel's teeth on edge and his skin to crawling. Perhaps it is just the cold and the rain… Eschuel thought.

It stands a lonely vigil atop a remote northern shore hunkered down against the terrible ocean storms. For most of the year, it sits alone, for trade in the region has almost died. If this were any other town, it would have long since have been forgotten, or perhaps even abandoned.

Eschuel nudged Belthazzar to wake his friend; the young silver dragon replied with a gracious yawn and watery eyes. The caravan stopped near a warehouse of building of some sorts. Hildibrand motioned everyone to head for the nearest shelter first-hand while he tends the restless horses. The simple effort became labored for the diligent halfling, as the roads leading to and within Ashenport are so sodden that they've all become mud; with the sky unleashing its full bounty, it is very likely for the weather to get worse.

Seeing Hildibrand's plight, Belthazzar offered to help the halfling merchant, which the merchant replied gratefully.

"Meet us in the inn later!" Eschuel yelled over the howling winds. The young dragon gave his friend a nod.

Being much stronger than the merchant, Belthazzar's help turned to be invaluable and both finished tending the caravan at a much hastened pace. The silver dragon jumped down from the carriage, a particular course of action he immediately regrets, as the mud proved very clay-like and sticky; Belthazzar muttered a Draconic expletive as his boots are soaked in brown, watery earth.

"Mind getting your shoes dirty boy?" A passing townsfolk whose manners and appearance much resembled a bugbear, cheekily chided.

You would mind if your boots were a hundred gold pieces apiece, Belthazzar thought at the retreating figure. Belthazzar then approached the stable hand in search for some directions.

"Excuse me," Belthazzar said. "Do you know where is the nearest inn or establishment?"

The skinny-looking man pointed at a large hovel with a smoking chimney.

"Ain't just the only place in town for a hot meal and a warm bed," The man grinned a toothless grin. "But the only place in a dozen leagues. Might meet you there later boy, to hoist a tankard or two; gods know I'll not be doing much else 'til the sky stops weepin'" Belthazzar said a quick 'thank you' and began walking with Hildibrand towards the inn.

Although still rendered gray and miserable by the constant downpour, the town of Ashenport remarkably looks better up close than it did at a distance. Belthazzar now can see that many of the buildings are sturdier than they appeared; a few are even made of quarried stone, rather than wood. Even in the inclement weather, several shops bustle with activity, and the light that gleams through many a window is bright and cheerful. Sporadic people trudge their way along the muddy roads, shoulders hunched against the rain, going about this business or that.

Belthazzar scrunched his nose in disgust, the salty tang of the sea, coupled with the lingering odor of a hundred years of fishing, insinuate themselves around his sensitive mouth and nose. Even the torrential rains and winds cannot completely strip the powerful stench from the air.

Passing a particularly large grove, Belthazzar trod over mud and water has reached it s destination. 'The Smooth Sailing Inn' he muttered, reading the grandiose sign, portraying at full sail on a waveless sea, flaps violently in the wind.

The different styles of architecture suggest Belthazzar that the building before him was once two, or even three separate shops, before someone sealed up the spaces between and knocked down the intervening walls. It now forms the largest structure on the block. Smoke rises from several chimneys, only to vanish into the falling rain.

Firelight gleams though several windows, and the sound of conversation-nearly inaudible in the storm-leaks from the doorway. Belthazzar sniffed his nose and silently thanked Bahamut that the constant putrid smell of raw, gutted fish is abated here somewhat with the smell of cooking and the inn's patrons. Belthazzar eagerly opened the oak door to the tavern.

His early impression of the joined building continues inside. Three different patterns of wooden floor, at three slightly different levels, make up the common room. Beyond this single quirk, however, this might as well be any other tavern: a bar stands on one side of the vast chamber, a staircase on the other, with a smattering of chairs and tables scattered throughout. Two fireplaces radiate a comforting warmth throughout the room, and several serving staff whirl about with tankards of ale and plates of smoked fish. The young dragon surveyed the room, trying to find his companions, until the outstretched wave of a hand caught his attention.

Belthazzar walked to the table whilst the halfling merchant to his, Eschuel and Artemis had already sat down, with plates of food and mugs of drinks in front of them. Smoked fish, brown rice and a chilled tankard of ale for Artemis, venison gruel and a mug of water for Eschuel. The dragon sat beside Eschuel.

"I'm hungry," Belthazzar put a hand on top of his stomach. "Did any of you get something for me?"

"No, we did not know what you would like." Eschuel said, sipping some water from his mug.

"Anything would be good," Belthazzar hailed one of the servers, a buxom blonde. "I eat anything!" Artemis absent-mindedly nodded. His attention focused elsewhere.

The server hurriedly came to their table, balancing some trays on her right arm, her disheveled hair tied up in bun, a sign of busyness.

"Hi, I'm Relina, your server, what would you like today sir?" The waitress gave a friendly smile to the three of them; the smile lingered briefly on Artemis.

"I'll have fish please."

"Sure thing cutie, would you like it grilled or smoked?" The waitress leveled her head to Belthazzar and pinched the end of his nose.

"Grilled please." The boy rubbed his nose, a small pout on his lips. Not quite pleased with the juvenile treatment. Seemingly not content with just pinching noses, Relina the waitress pinched Belthazzar's left cheek for good measure as she left to fetch his order. The young dragon looked none to pleased.

"Why must humans do that!" Belthazzar crossed his arms in defiance. "Every time mother had guests, they always fawn over this form. Especially the females," He harrumphed for good measure. "I'm a dragon for Bahamut's sake!"

Eschuel laughed loudly, spurting some venison pieces on top of the table much to Artemis's chagrin.

The sound of closing door followed by an eruption of greetings roused the three of them from their conversation. Eschuel saw a slightly-overweight man followed by a large, bristly fellow behind him. Judging from the fat man's expensive clothing and immaculately coifed blond hair, Eschuel guessed he must either be a rich merchant, or at least someone with high standing in Ashenport. The other man, however, has seen better days; he stands almost six-and-a-half feet tall, and his bristly brown hair and beard made him quite bearlike.

"Who are they?" Belthazzar mused aloud.

"He's the alderman of this town," Artemis answered, having listened to Otho's enthusiastic babble on treasure purchases with the town. "The name's Ritter."

"Ah," Belthazzar nodded, eyes still fixated on two of the tavern's newcomer. He maintained his gaze even when the burly man looked back. The man sneered a disturbing smile, and walked towards his offender.

"Why waste such pretty eyes, boy!" The bearlike man called to Belthazzar, shoving patrons none too gently as he neared the boy.

Belthazzar averted his gaze slowly and plopped a piece of fish in his mouth, chewing the food slowly, a deliberate action of nonchalance.

"I'm talking to you, boy!" The thug spat his last words and banged a fist on the company's table. Belthazzar narrowed his eyes at his spilled food, then to the man.

"Don't you know who I am boy?" The man aggressively pushed his face towards Belthazzar's; he can smell the sharp smell of ale on his breath.

Eschuel was about to stand up, but the young dragon held an outstretched palm towards them. Artemis's hand however, was already on the jeweled dagger's hilt; but he is a patient man, he would certainly kill should the situation calls for it, but for now, he waits and see how a silver dragon would handle the situation.

Belthazzar calmly stood up and faced his adversary; he then gently pushed the offending man away. The man stumbled to the ground as if hit by a charging ram, a look of utter bewilderment apparent on his face.

"You'll pay for that, runt!" The man scampered and struggled to get up; his face red with either anger or shame, Artemis cannot discern which.

"Sheriff Kaern!" a shrill but otherwise commanding voice stopped the sheriff from his aggressive course of action. Alderman Ritter was the source of the voice, his jovial demeanor completely gone. The mayor motioned the sheriff to exit the tavern, which brought on sighs of relief from most of the patrons. Alderman Ritter shook his head and turned his gaze to Artemis.

"I apologize for the sheriff's rather… unruly behavior," The mayor bowed deeply at the three companions. "The horrid weather gets into him."

"I am not the one you should be apologizing to." Artemis said stoically, he flicked his head to Belthazzar. His words seemed sincere enough in Artemis's ear, though his inflections are laced with something, malicious or not, Artemis still cannot discern it.

"I am sorry little one for his treatment to you," The alderman leveled his head to Belthazzar.

"It's alright," The silver dragon replied, meeting the alderman's forlorn expression with a comforting smile.

"Then I hope you will stay in our town for the night," The man replied with a satisfied expression. "Our rooms are the cleanest and cheapest in all of Faerûn." The mayor's closing sentence brought peals of god-natured laughter from the various patrons. "Isn't that right, Pioter?"

The comment was intended to a sour-looking fellow, with gaunt, unshaven cheeks standing behind the bar. He gruffly replied with a muffled affirmative whilst running a hand through his salt-and-pepper hair. Artemis observed that the man, unlike his serving staff, makes no effort to at least appear friendly.

The alderman nervously chuckled and flitted away from the trio with a courteous bow. He immediately resumed his mingling with the merchant's on their table. Instead of just Otho, Hildibrand and the ever-vigilant elf, Alondell; a dark-haired, half-elf woman paired with two men clad in black and an unassuming man with spectacles are all present at the table. From what Belthazzar's ears can discern from their incessant negotiations, the woman is named Terza, the man is a jeweler from Neverwinter called Jandal. Both however, expressed their interest purely on the sunken treasures Ashenport had claimed rather than the halflings' more mundane purchases.

"She is a Zhent." Artemis's voice echoed behind him.

"Zhent?" Eschuel quirked.

"Zhentharim," Artemis replied. "Ruthless merchants dedicated to Bane."

"Not to mention tightly-knit in all sorts of illegal activities." Added Belthazzar. He rubbed his still-famished belly.

"I think I'll just eat out," Belthazzar stood up. "Any of you coming?"

"Sure." Eschuel said. Artemis shrugged his shoulders and stood up as well.

Warmth made way to gale and rain as the three companions walked out of the tavern; hoods up against the weather save for Belthazzar, whose hair clung wetly to his head. Belthazzar walked past a nearby tannery, his head swiveled and looked around, as if in search of something.

"Where are you going to eat?" Eschuel said, patting his cloak from the accumulated wetness.

"I'm looking for iron," Belthazzar simply said. A brief expression of discomfort manifested itself on his face as they neared Ashenport's tannery.

"Iron?" Eschuel raised his eyebrow quizzically. "I thought you were going to get some food."

"Exactly." Belthazzar grinned as he replied. Artemis was quite unaware of the conversation, his attention focused on the tannery they had just passed. Even in the heavy rains and winds, the stench of tanning chemicals and dyes lingers heavy on the air, causing an uneasy, turning feeling in his gut and his eyes to water. As with many other shops, the tannery is shut down for the duration of the storm. Artemis however, noted that when the town is not wracked by storms and the winds are weaker, the stench emanating from the tannery almost certainly encompasses the Smooth Sailing Inn and Tavern. He concluded that the positioning of the inn an ill-conceived in business choices, as it would drive business away during other times of the year.

"What are you thinking about, Artemis?" Eschuel noted Artemis shifting his gaze slowly from the tannery, then to the tavern.

"It was nothing," The man shook his head. "Has he found some irons yet?" Artemis asked, noting Belthazzar's search over the metal.

"No, not yet," Eschuel sighed cheekily, an amused expression splayed on his face.

"Why not go to that store over there, Bell?" Eschuel pointed at a building north of him.

"Yeah, let's go." Belthazzar said, after his search of the metal turns moot. He began walking to the building, surveying it intently. There's little to differentiate the building from the other structures in Ashenport, save that the walls are meticulously whitewashed, or at least they were meticulous before the heavy rains. Above the door hangs a painting of an idyllically beautiful shoreline, with the words '_A Bountiful Tide_' etched above it in gold paint. There's no telling that ingots would be sold here in the small store, but it is worth the try, Belthazzar mused.

A slight tinkling of a chime above the door notified the shopkeeper of their entrance to the store. Inside the shop are numerous aisles, with goods divided very roughly into categories. Ropes, lanterns and pitons are found under an aisle marked 'exploring', while packets of rations, dried goods and salt are in 'foodstuffs'.

Much to Belthazzar's delight, a lone iron ingot sat on top of a table in front of and old woman who must be the shopkeeper, her gray hair tied in a knot behind her head.

"Welcome my dears," She approached the two boys with a huge smile; a noticeable limp is present in her steps. "Feel free to have a look around. My prices are the best."

"How much for that ingot?" Belthazzar pointed at the unworked iron.

"For you, sweet boy, I'll part with it for fifty gold pieces." The old lady answered, her huge smile grew impossibly wider.

"Done." Belthazzar took fifty gold from his Bag of Holding, unabashed anticipation present on his features as he made the transaction.

"What exactly are you going to do with that bar of iron?" Eschuel asked as the three of them made their way back to the inn, peering his blue eyes to the mundane-looking ingot.

"Oh you'll see," Belthazzar replied mysteriously. Both Eschuel and Artemis saw a mischievous glint on the silver dragon's eyes.

The Smooth Sailing Inn and Tavern's guests has somewhat cleared. Except the Zhentharim merchant Terza, and the jeweler Jandal, only two locals remained, one of them Belthazzar recognized, is the skinny stable-hand.

"Where are the others?" Eschuel said aloud, to no one in particular.

"Oh you mean the halfling troupe?" The buxom waitress interjected. Her hair now loose, wavy locks pooled over her shoulders. "They went upstairs to their quarters. Oh, and the alderman gave you three a room. Free of charge." She finished her sentence with a good-natured wink.

"Then we will thank him tomorrow." Artemis curtly said. For a split-second however, the ever-cheerful woman's expression turned grim, it lingered as briefly as a bolt of lightning and the barmaid gave the three of them a large smile.

"Yes, of course. Now have a good night you three!" Relina the waitress then turned heel towards the bar.

The room was modest at best. A simple rectangular chamber with a smaller door leading to a privy, two wooden bunk beds are placed side-to-side, a desk in between the separator space, and a lone oil lamp stood on top of it. A round table and four chairs made of dark wood, possibly ash, stand a lonely vigil opposite one of the beds. Behind it, a large iron-wrought window allowed the three of them a view overlooking the black, frothy sea; the windowpane is relatively clear, with occasional marred specks, perhaps due to the airborne salt.

Eschuel ran a hand across his hair, discarding his hooded cloak on the frame of one the chairs. His wings spread free and he flexed them to ease the fatigue of keeping them so close to his back all the time. He then peeled of the Mithral chain shirt, neatly folding it on top of the lamp desk.

A sickening _crack _from behind him garnered the half-celestial's attention. He looked back and saw Belthazzar, already in his true form, and was in the midst of breaking his newly acquired iron ingot, with his teeth.

"Oh, don't tell me-" Eschuel did not have to finish the sentence as his blue eyes went wide. Belthazzar, on the other hand, looked at him with a look that said: 'what?'. His mouth full of small pieces of iron.

"Dragons can ingest anything," Artemis said, wearing only his black trousers, having already discarded his dark armor and _piwafwi_ on the table, with Charon's Claw on top of the pile.

"When he said he eats 'anything'," Artemis looked at the dragon amusingly. "He means he can literally, _eat_ anything."

The dragon in question nodded vigorously and gulped the rest of the metal; a satisfied look was on his face.

"So," Eschuel asked, eyes still wide with newfound fascination. "What does iron taste like?" He sat on the floor beside where Belthazzar is sitting.

"Compared to beef or pork, it's quite alright really," Belthazzar rested his head on his forelegs.

"I just can't imagine how anyone can like the taste of metal." Eschuel shook his head in wonder.

"Well, have any of you tried gems, like sapphire or diamonds?" Belthazzar asked intently. Which Eschuel replied with a raised eyebrow.

"Okay, stupid question," Belthazzar nervously chuckled. "But when I was just a wyrmling, mother would feed me gems every once in a week." The dragon enthusiastically told Eschuel. "They were delicious to a fault. I haven't eaten them in such a long time."

"That's… That's an expensive diet." Eschuel playfully poked the dragon's hard, steel-like stomach with his elbow.

"Well, dragons _are_ creatures of luxury." Belthazzar playfully mussed Eschuel's blond hair. Which Eschuel replied by mock-strangling the dragon's neck.

The sound of playful fighting was barely audible to Artemis, whose gaze lingered to the vast, empty but turbulent ocean. The town was full of ominous signs, ominous enough to captivate him, the tannery's curious position, the sheriff's underlying violent tendencies and the unending storm over the coastal areas.

These occurrences can easily be explained, Artemis reasoned.

The tannery's position may be just poor planning on the town's part, the sheriff perhaps may be just the average town bully, misusing his power by throwing his weight around, finally the weather is a natural phenomenon, and nature is never known to act as predicted.

He silently cursed the seedling paranoia that has begun to grow, clouding his reasoning. Yet, it is his reasoning that has made way to his ever-vigilant stance on details and has saved his life on more than one occasion. One instance which truly intrigued Artemis earlier on downstairs was the barmaid's slight emotion shift. What is the meaning of her frown? Is the alderman not as benevolent as he would like people to think? Artemis can debate and speculate the reasons all night, but he realized that the chances of Ashenport being a pirate den are as much as the town being as it is, just a normal town.

"What are you staring at Artemis?" Belthazzar the silver dragon roused Artemis from his thoughts.

"Nothing," Artemis shook his head. Both Belthazzar and Eschuel gave him an unsatisfied look. "This town, Ashenport… Just, guard yourselves," Artemis reluctantly said. "Be ready is all I'm saying." He then shifted his gaze towards Belthazzar.

"This back-water town?" The dragon responded. "Well let's just be careful around that Kaern fellow." Belthazzar rested his head on his left paw. "I'll pluck out his beard if he gets close to me again." The dragon made a tugging motion with his claws.

Both Belthazzar and Eschuel erupted into peals of muffled laughter at the mental image; Artemis too found it hard to maintain a straight face in the ensuing mirth. With a relaxed sigh, he let his head fall back to his pillow.

Eschuel too languidly sat on his bed, the initial youthful energy slowly drained by the night's call. It was not long until the boy muttered a tired 'good night' and let sleep claim him. Seeing his main conversation partner asleep, Belthazzar opted to slumber as well.

Artemis was the last to let his eyes closed, letting the rhythmic sound of the rain to lull him and welcome whatever dreams may visit him.

Artemis was torn between dreams and waking, his lethargic mind can still hear the sound of the very audible rain, but the absence of any light on his closed eyelids left him no clues on what the time currently is. The meager bed underneath his form felt comforting to him, it was a kind of pleasure that the carriage's hard, wooden boards had robbed of him. After rolling to his side, Artemis then heard something beyond the rain and winds. Slowly, gradually, a new sound penetrates the pounding storm and the howling of the winds. Barely audible at first but obviously there, this left the man to wonder if his sleep-addled brain is playing tricks on his senses, but the sound resolves itself into an alien, high-pitched keening. It resounds with loss, with sadness-the lament of a mother who has lost her children or of the sailor stranded far from home. It echoes wistfully yet harshly from over the waves and grows ever louder until the storm has receded into the background. It fills Artemis's ears, insinuates itself through his mind and his soul, until the man felt like he could only dream or think of nothing else.

He forced his eyes open, night-sweat coated his bare torso, the simple effort of opening his eyes taxed him greatly he sat up and wiped his face with his left hand. A rustle beside him roused his attention.

Eschuel, with blank eyes and a half-opened mouth sat up on his bed; he had heard the sound as well. It is not beautiful, it is not comforting. And yet the boy found himself overcome with an irresistible urge to follow. Without a sound, he began walking towards the door, feeling nothing but the urge to follow the call.

Seeing the strange behavior, Artemis called for Eschuel. Eschuel heard Artemis, but found it hard to respond. He has made his way in front of the door, and like a disembodied spirit, he felt his hand reach out for the knob, though he did not willed it.

All of a sudden, Eschuel felt an overwhelming pressure struck the small of his back. Unlike the walking sensation however, the pain felt real and vivid, and now he felt the pressure remains rooted, pinning him to the ground.

"Eschuel!" The gruff voice of Belthazzar can be heard from the direction of the overwhelming force that pinned him.

"What in Bahamut's name are you doing?" The dragon bellowed.

"Nothing!" Eschuel said, anger apparent in his voice.

"You were muttering 'the sea, the sea'," Artemis's voice made Eschuel turn his head, he saw the man starting to don his garb. "If the dragon did not stop you, you would be under the sea right now." Artemis said grimly. Witnessing the two Zentharim guards submerging under the water through the large window. The two black-clad guards did not resurface for air.

Belthazzar released his friend with an apologetic look. Eschuel stood up, and took the Mithral chain shirt and his cloak.

"We have to check for the rest." Eschuel said, brows furrowed in worry. Belthazzar gave an affirmative gesture as he assumed his human form.

Artemis nodded. So much for peace and quiet, he mused.

Artemis and company opened the door opposite their room. They were greeted by a sorry sight, Hildibrand, still in his nightclothes, was brandishing a knife, whilst Otho's children were behind him, cowering with tear-streaked faces. The familiar sight of Artemis calmed him somewhat, but the halfling's expression remained tense.

"Where is Otho?" Artemis queried the merchant; he took the knife from Hildibrand's quivering hand.

"We, I don't know," Hildibrand stammered, eyes shifting from left to right. "By Waukeen, we were sleeping, and then this terrible… _noise_ woke us up, it told me to go to the sea, but that'll mighty stupid of me to do so, so I didn't do it, when I looked around them boys are already walking through the door, but I stopped them, they were all acting ghost-like, and Otho… Otho was nowhere to be found!" The halfling began rubbing his temple and hair furiously.

Artemis then looked through the window, even through the hampering storm, a small, huddled figure was standing on the lip of the sea, arms wide open to the sky, like a morbid mockery of gratitude to the gods. Artemis knew the man was Otho, and as the man bowed deeply into the water, Artemis knew that it was too late to save him.

"Where's the elf?" Artemis barked at Hildibrand, whom was raving constantly about all manner of things.

"He, he wasn't staying with us," One of the two halfling boys spoke.

"Alondell went to the mill for the night," His brother added, their voices shaky with fear.

Belthazzar stood up. He then closed his eyes, took crumpled rose petals from his Bag of Holding, and brought it close to his mouth. He muttered some arcane words of power and blew the rose petals to the halflings' direction.

The three halflings slowly slumped down to the ground, eyes closed as a wave of magical sleep settled upon them.

"How long will the spell last?" Artemis began moving Hildibrand to one of the beds. He motioned Eschuel and Belthazzar to do the same for the two children.

"They should remain unconscious for about six hours or so." Belthazzar growled, his voice changing in the midst of his transformation back to his true form

The three of them made their way downstairs. If the strange noise did not sound, there will be no telling that such an occurrence had ever happened. The Smooth Sailing Inn and Tavern remains the same as it was yesterday night, albeit deserted.

The dim light did not hinder Belthazzar's eyesight, the dragon silently points at a remote corner, where a shivering, cowering form was present.

The young silver dragon silently crept his way to the huddled figure. The fellow turned out to be the Neverwinter jeweler, Jandal. The frightened man's eyes turned even wider as he witnessed a silver dragon peering over him.

"Yes, yes, I'm a dragon," Belthazzar sighed. "Calm down, I'm not as bloodthirsty as my more… _colorful_ cousins." Belthazzar hurriedly explained, Eschuel sniggered upon hearing what Belthazzar had just said.

"What happened here?" Artemis leveled his head to the crouching man.

"Please help me! There was this sound, and everything went dark, all I can think about was to play in the waves, I wasn't sure what had happened, but then I felt a hard slap across my face, and suddenly a tall elf appeared on my vision, then he was gone, just like that!" The jeweler frantically explained, hands waving madly, mouth frothed with spittle.

Belthazzar looked at Artemis for his next course of action. Artemis merely nodded, which Belthazzar replied with one as well, fully understanding what the nod implies. He took a pinch of sand now from the tavern floor; he then muttered the incantation for the sleep spell as he gingerly sprinkled the fine sand into Jandal's eyes. Instead of protesting the sudden intrusion of foreign object into his eyes, the Neverwinter jeweler immediately fell to the floor as enchantment lulled him to sleep.

"So," Eschuel said, taking a seat on one of the tavern's benches. "What do we do now?"

"We find the elf," Artemis replied. "Then we leave this place."

"What about the other's then?" The dragon narrowed his eyes at Artemis.

"They have sheltered us," Artemis answered. "I intend to repay them in full." He said impassively.

"So to the mill then?" Eschuel stood up, and let his wings sprang free.

Artemis nodded. They exit the tavern.


	6. Chapter 5: Confusion And The Cult

Behind the constant rains and stone-thick clouds, the lightening of dawn's sky is all but imperceptible

Chapter 5 – Confusion And The Cult

Behind the constant rains and stone-thick clouds, the lightening of dawn's sky is all but imperceptible. Still, dawn has come, and Ashenport should be rising as well.

It is not so. Even as the first dew moments of morning creep past, the town remains utterly, deathly still. No doors slammed, no shopkeepers huddled against the rain as they rush to start the new day's business. Other than Artemis, Eschuel and Belthazzar, not a soul stirs. The only signs of life are a few large gulls, undaunted by the rains, perched among the town's roofs. Much like flies converging on a bloated corpse, Artemis thought, pulling the _piwafwi_'s hood over his head.

"Well they must really hate rain, no?" Belthazzar smirked.

"With this kind of rain," Eschuel looked up to the sky, his white wings occasionally shielding his head from the rain from nothing but gray, rolling storm clouds. "I think everyone would hate it."

Artemis silently disagreed, he enjoyed the rain, it was a welcome change than the rolling, sandy winds of Calimshan. It was a precious commodity, he had learned to cherish from a young age.

"Where is the mill by the way?" Eschuel asked aloud to no one in particular.

"We will just have to ask the townsfolk." Artemis replied.

"There are no townsfolk nearby." Belthazzar answered, annoyance apparent in his voice.

Artemis sighed and pointed at nearby hovel beside the tavern.

Both Eschuel and Belthazzar looked to the house. After a few seconds of non-activity, a brief flicker of candlelight behind a waving cloth, possibly a curtain, caught their eye. With renewed effort, Belthazzar focused his sight to the dark window. Whatever figure standing behind the shutters made a grave mistake in moving, no matter the race, the eye catches motion much easily than colors.

"You're right, there is definitely someone there." Belthazzar whispered at both Artemis and Eschuel. The three of them wasted no time and approached the front door of the house.

Artemis knocked on the ashen surface. No answer.

Eschuel then knocked on the door with harder knocks. Still no answer.

Artemis then motioned the silver dragon to have a try as well; he was in no mood to be subtle. Belthazzar then gleefully have his way on the door. The two pounding that he made on the wooden surface resounded with much force; it left a deep, splintered indentation on the door.

"Yes, yes, I'm coming!" An agitated voice laced with fright answered.

The door opened to the sight of a middle-aged woman dressed in her nightclothes, a bewildered look was on her face at the sight of a hooded man dressed in black, a boy with white wings beside him, and a dragon as big as a bear behind them.

"Excuse me," Eschuel waved his left hand in front of the woman. "We would like to know where the Ashenport mill is."

The woman stammered at first, her panicked gaze multiplied ten-fold as it travels to Eschuel's wings, Artemis's hooded face, but it mostly lingered on the silver dragon. Until after a few hard breaths-and a stern look from Artemis, she managed to finally compose herself enough to speak.

"The, the mill is just behind the grove," She said anxiously, her frightful gaze still fixated on Belthazzar; the woman looked away with scarlet cheeks as the dragon winked his silver eye in retaliation.

"Now, if there's nothin' else-," The woman then turned heel and closed the door, or tried to, as Eschuel's left hand is wedged firmly between the door.

"Wait," The boy said. "Did you hear any strange-"

"I don't wanna' speak to ye, boy," The lady said frantically. "Your kind ain't welcome here!" The woman spat those words and then literally spat on the ground near the half-celestial's feet.

"Excuse me?"

"I ain't saying any more to the likes of ye." The woman finished her sentence with a frightful gaze, her bony hands trembling.

"Fine." Eschuel said. Voice impassive, but Artemis knew that the boy was hurt by the woman's words. "Let's just go to the mill, shall we?"

"You okay?" Belthazzar halted Eschuel's movements with a tap on his shoulder.

"Yeah," Eschuel sighed. "Just brings back memories that's all," The boy looked at Artemis, then to Belthazzar. "Let's go."

At the center of town, a densely thick copse of trees grows, and all of the trees seem to be drooping and weeping in the heavy rains. A full seventy five feet across, the grove is far too healthy and far too well tended to be mere chance.

"Clearly this grove is something the people here take seriously." Belthazzar mused aloud.

"Agreed, the trees actually seemed trimmed to just be thick on this area alone," Eschuel touched one of the ash tree's trunk. "What do you think Artemis?"

But Artemis Entreri did not hear his companion's words. Through the steady downpour, a shadow of movement caught his eye.

"Ambush!" Artemis's hand went straight to both his weapons. His jeweled dagger on his right, and Charon's Claw on his left.

Two men with wild eyes and swords clutched in their fists charge from around the copse's corners and out of the mists. Lurking behind them, barely visible, stood two others, unarmored, chanting and gesturing. Spellcasters, Artemis thought.

With a shrill cry, one of the assailants swung a wild slash from his sword, too slow for Artemis, whom deftly stepped to his side and swiped his jeweled dagger. Red blood gushed out unabatedly as the storm, as the blade cuts through the jugular, the man's death cries silenced by sickening gurgles. The other man brought his curved blade up high and brought it low in the efforts of cleaving Artemis in twain, the man's eyes went wide as his expected feeling of a sword caving soft flesh is replaced with the ringing sensation of metal meeting with rock. The man's eyes went wide yet again, as he witnessed a black blade burst forth from his stomach. Artemis kicked the already dead man to dislodge him from Charon's Claw. Surveying his surroundings, he saw Belthazzar unleashing a breath of freezing air to the waggling fingers of one of the robed figures, the tubes of flesh broke as icicles, and the man howled in a mixture of shock and pain. A punch sent the man flying for quite the distance and silenced him for good.

Eschuel fought defensively, making little nicks and cuts to non-vital areas, a swipe to the thigh here, a stab to the forearm there, each attack being made as the mystic began casting, breaking his concentration every time.

"Need any help?" Belthazzar bellowed to his friend. He dragged his fist towards the slick cobblestones, cleaning the blood coating the silver scales.

Eschuel turned his head to Belthazzar to answer, the spellcaster saw this as an opportunity, and with a sickening smile, drew his morningstar.

"Behind you!" Artemis growled at Eschuel. The man began his dash towards the spellcaster. From his stance, Artemis was sure that the man's weapon hand won't be as lethal as the ones he just killed but a blow nonetheless would cause considerable injury, he saw the man arcing the morningstar to his side, the spiked ball at the end of the weapon whirled, and much to Artemis's horror, struck Eschuel right on the side of his face with a muted crack.

The robed man smiled wickedly, his weapon has made contact, and the winged boy would topple down now any second. He did not, from the gaping gash of ripped flesh and broken face-bone, the scrawny human saw shattered bones snapping back into place, pieces of muscle overlapping itself, until a fresh patch of skin covered the wound, leaving not even a scar.

"That almost hurt," Eschuel said with a smile was on his face. "My turn." He plunged his steel dagger to the man's left shoulder, enough to draw blood, lots of it, but not deep enough to sever the arm. Eschuel then let loose a blow to the man's jaw with his elbow, which was enough to silence the spellcaster's howl of pain and ushered him to unconsciousness.

Artemis walked to Eschuel, a grim expression on his face, expecting a wound. Much to his surprise, Artemis saw not even a cut on Eschuel's face; he rubbed his fingers on the boy's left cheek, the area which the morningstar had struck him.

"The man struck a great blow here," Artemis released his hand, as the boy became ticklish. "Yet not even a scar is left."

Eschuel grabbed the hilt of his dagger, and with a grunt, pulled it loose.

"Mundane metals can't hurt me," Eschuel said, eyeing his dagger's broken edge. "My body just heals instantly when they break skin."

"Catch." Belthazzar called to Eschuel. The dragon slowly tossed a longsword to the boy, one of the spoils of the battle, Eschuel deftly caught the blade in mid-air. He thanked Belthazzar as he slung his new weapon on his back.

"Anything else?" Eschuel slung his arm over the silver dragon's left shoulder.

"Not much," Belthazzar said. "Just these bracers." He showed Eschuel two leather bangles. Despite the smooth appearance, the bracers are unnaturally hard and stiff to touch.

"They're enchanted," Belthazzar said, with an enthusiastic smile on his face. "They're too small for me though, you keep it."

"Why thank you." Eschuel smiled back to the dragon, and wore the bracers on each of his wrists.

"If you're done looting the corpses, we have an elf to find." Artemis simply said, already on his way towards the mill-house.

The mill, like the principle buildings of the town is unsurprisingly abandoned. The old wooden building contains little more than a heavy and ponderous grindstone and other milling equipment. Although there are no obvious sources of power for the grindstone, the sound of running water suggested an underground stream of some sort.

"Are these bedrolls?" Belthazzar picked one of the flimsy sleeping bags aloft. "Oh, and they smell, perfect."

Eschuel chuckled at the dragon's disgusted reaction, but soon silently agreed with Belthazzar, the mattresses he just flipped smelt of rank sweat and seawater.

"He's not here." Artemis said to Eschuel. "Let's take the halflings and leave this place."

"What about the Neverwinter jeweler?"

"We'll take him along," Artemis answered. "Hope he has enough gems to keep the dragon quiet." Muttered Artemis to himself.

"I heard that."

Eschuel burst out laughing, and patted the silver dragon's back. "You are one funny reptile, don't you know?"

"And for a half-breed, you're not that dull yourself." The dragon laughed along and retaliated with a pat of his own, albeit, proportionally harder, almost knocking the half-celestial to the ground.

The three companions' exit was greeted with more rain. The storm kept on rolling, unleashing water and the occasional lightning. Artemis led the way in front, with Eschuel in the middle and Belthazzar guarding their flanks, both Artemis and Eschuel's hands are wound tightly on the hilt of their weapons, ready for any more surprise on their journey back to the tavern.

Fortunately, the straightforward journey to the Smooth Sailing Tavern and Inn was without any more confrontations. Artemis opened the door to the tavern only to find the building deserted as in the morning.

"I will go check the others upstairs." Eschuel went on his way as he said those words. Artemis followed the boy to help.

"I'll be in the kitchen if you need me." Said Belthazzar hungrily, already making his way to the kitchen. The gaping feeling in his stomach intensified as the faint smell of grilled meats wafted to his nose. He then halted his steps; the smell of cooking can only mean that there is someone inside to actually do the deed. The dragon closed his eyes, and focused his hearing on the room in front of him, even beneath the rainfall and the hiss of cooking oil; Belthazzar heard the steady humdrum of human heartbeat. Realizing that the person may be one of the tavern's staff, Belthazzar hastily assumed his human form.

Belthazzar, now in his alternate visage as a young boy, opened the door leading to the kitchen. The young dragon quirked his now brown eyebrows, he expected the comely bar-wench Relina, or her cheerful looking friend to be in the kitchen preparing foodstuffs into delicious meals; but instead, Belthazzar found the sour-faced old innkeeper Pioter, hunched over the plates of fish, he uncorked a bottle containing an ichorlike liquid and poured it generously over the food.

"What are you doing?" Belthazzar questioned the innkeeper's ominous behavior. The dragon scrunched his nose in disgust as a foul smell replaced the aroma of cooking.

Pioter the innkeeper, shocked, dropped the bottle he was holding and without further banter, bolted for the door.

Or at least, tried to; the innkeeper suddenly felt no control in his legs, as if someone had got rid of it, the paralysis swiftly came over his hands, his torso and his throat, until finally, Pioter's body became an immovable prison.

Belthazzar smugly smiled to himself, the dragon had breathed a paralyzing, transparent gas which is what had caused the running innkeeper to go suddenly rigid.

"I guess that bottle doesn't contain flavoring, no?" Belthazzar said to the paralyzed man, not really expecting an answer. "The paralysis will be gone in an hour or so. Until then, you'd best come out with an answer to what you are trying to do, and what in the hells is wrong with this town." Belthazzar then reverted back to his dragon form, and made his way to the common room.

He was greeted with the sight of both Artemis and Eschuel, without the halflings with them. The former had a sour expression, and the latter of anger.

"I take it things don't go as well as planned?" Belthazzar inquired.

"The halflings are gone," Eschuel said. He took a deep breath and ran a hand through his hair. "And they left no trace."

Artemis was about to add to what the boy had just said, but stopped. A sinking feeling rose to his stomach as a very familiar sound began to resonate. Artemis gritted his teeth, he felt the cacophony of lamentation urging him to go to the sea, the suggestion became forceful as Artemis resisted the mind-affecting compulsion. With sheer willpower, he banished the intruding thought from his mind, and breathed a sigh of relief as the voice gradually dissipated, and then gone completely.

Hearing the same sound, Belthazzar found the compulsion laughable, the voice had insinuated itself with rudimentary Draconic in his mind, but the horrible diction and foreign inflection made him laugh than submit. He too, had no problem in resisting the call that sounded from the ocean.

Eschuel however, was not so fortunate. The sound assaulted his minds like wildfire; the call was like a thousand cries of sorrow urging him to let the sea wash away any pain. The sound resolves itself from a loud cry to gentle urging. Eschuel regained his vision again, he felt his legs move without his consent, He saw Artemis s towards him, he tried to call out but his tongue would not move. Only when a pinprick of pain shot through his finger that he finally regained control of his body again.

"Ow!" Yelped Eschuel, putting his bleeding finger inside his mouth.

Artemis sheathed his jeweled dagger, took a healer's kit from his hip-satchel and ripped a small piece of bandage.

"Give me your finger."

"No, it's just a small wound, it'll heal." Eschuel replied with a smile.

Artemis sighed, knowing fully well that the cut will not heal by itself. He took the boy's hand and saw blood running freely from the open cut, he pinched the tender flesh around it to stop bleeding and wrapped the bandage over Eschuel's forefinger.

"It won't heal," Artemis cut off an impending protest from the boy. "My dagger is not made of mundane metal." He stood up.

"Well, we best get ready though," Belthazzar's voice garnered both of their attention. "Someone's outside."

"How many?" Artemis asked, readying his weapons.

"Judging from their steps…" The silver dragon closed his eyes. "About four."

Realizing that the cramped space of the inn would only hinder them should they fight, Artemis motioned his companions to follow him outside.

For once, the rain proved useful in determining where the four figures are, the rain highlighted four humped figures, as the hunched fellows got closer and revealed their forms, Artemis's hands gripped his blades harder. Shambling towards the three come nightmares vomited from the sea itself. Roughly humanoid, the four creatures are covered in viscous slime, shifting scales, and fishbelly-white flesh. Their huge, black eyes never blinked; their mouths gape and flex, but no sound emerges as they approach.

"What in the hells are those?" Belthazzar said aloud, apprehension apparent in his voice.

"I… I have no idea." Eschuel said, wings bristled and teeth gritted as he saw the creatures drew rapiers and shields.

Artemis stayed silent, and dashed to one of the lone aberration blundering some fifteen feet away. He let loose a horizontal slash to the creature's neck. Having the edge of surprise, Charon's Claw easily cut through, and severed the fish-man's elongated head from its horrid body. Black blood spurted forth, arcing in the air, mingling with the rain like a macabre fountain.

Artemis was about to do the same for the others, but fell on his knees, clutching his mouth and nose.

"Steer clear of their blood!" Artemis coughed, his stomach churning with bile that threatens to be spilled. Through watery eyes, Artemis saw Belthazzar flash-froze a fish-man and promptly shattered the icicle statue with his claws.

Artemis felt a soothing sensation traveling his body as Eschuel laid his hands on his left shoulder; whatever sickness he contracted from the nauseating blood was gone. Artemis managed a quick nod of appreciation to Eschuel, and then turned his attention back to a pair of fish-men in front of them. Artemis tried to strike the one closest to him with the pommel of his dagger, but stopped his assault in mid-form, as Belthazzar had lunged from up high with a bite, cleanly taking an arm off. Artemis swept the legs of the flailing creature, and plunged Charon's Claw deep into its belly, silencing its wet cackles of pain.

Eschuel was fighting defensively, parrying quick rapier lunges from the fish-man, and striking riposte slashes after each successful parry. Having neither an advantage nor he is being disadvantaged, Eschuel stepped back, and raised his left hand in front of the creature, palm opened. Calling his innate celestial power, his palm emitted a flash of bright, yellow light. Even from ten feet away, the light was bright enough to make Artemis shield his eyes. The effect on the aberration was more than what Eschuel had intended, with a blood-curdling screech, the fish-man groped blindly, his black eyes bled equally black blood. With not a moment's hesitation, Eschuel again drew power from his celestial blood, and struck the monster with his longsword; the blade cut horizontally and bit deeply into malleable flesh, leaving a huge gash. No blood was spilled as Eschuel's divinely-energized attack cauterized the wound immediately.

"Bah, they taste horrible!" Belthazzar spat the lingering fish-man's blood he accidentally tasted from ripping off its arm.

"Artemis did tell you to avoid the blood did he not?" Eschuel laughed at the silver dragon, and laughed even louder when he saw Belthazzar trying to drink the falling rain.

"We have to find the halflings," Artemis stoically reminded the two children. "And I doubt the townspeople would be of much help."

"I know someone who might tell us what we need to know," Belthazzar said, a mischievous glint accompanied his smile.

The three found Pioter struggling to reach for the back door; his paralysis not fully cured, the man crawled and grunted his way to the door. Clicking his tongue in annoyance, Belthazzar unceremoniously dropped his right foreleg on the innkeeper's back, holding him prone.

"Now, now, it's best you tell us what we ask," Belthazzar good-naturedly smiled.

"Where are the halflings?" Artemis asked the prone form.

The man muttered something too quiet for Artemis to understand, but judging from Belthazzar's sudden smile and Eschuel's muffled giggles, Artemis presumed it must be something cheeky. He crouched and held the man's face so it faced him.

"Where are the halflings?" He asked again, slowly this time.

"Up my arse." Was the only answer the man gave.

"So be it." Artemis sighed and stood up. He walked behind the Pioter, and drew his dagger, he was about to plunge the blade, but Eschuel's pleading eyes stopped him from doing so. The boy murmured a 'thank you' and crouched down beside the man.

"We mean you no harm, sir," Eschuel said politely to the man. "We just would like to find the rest of the companions so we can be on our way."

"Oh, you're beyond harmin' me, little angel," The man spat those words with venom. "Just you wait when Father Dagon has supped your pretty flesh, you and your dragon friend," The man grunted as Belthazzar's paw held him harder. "Ashenport will be reborn as glorious as ever!" The man's sickening laugh was silenced by Artemis's boot.

"Dagon… As in the Prince of the Deep, Dagon?" Belthazzar queried the still-writhing Pioter.

"Do not insult his name by sayin' it, wyrmling!" Pioter screeched.

"Wyrmling? Oh this wyrmling can-,"

"Dagon?" Artemis queried, cutting off Belthazzar's string of annoyed words.

"A demon from the Abyss." Eschuel answered.

"A _demon lord_, to be exact," Belthazzar added. "One of the most influential Outsider in the Prime Material Plane."

"Ah, so you know the power of our dark lord," Pioter said through his bleeding mouth. "He will claim your exquisite souls through his avatars!"

"Do tell who these 'avatars' are." Said Eschuel, getting tired from the man's half-crazed claims.

"You've seen them haven't you? Alderman Ritter and Mother Sharallan, the chosen acolytes of Father Dagon!"

"Where are they?" Artemis grabbed one of the man's arms in a lock, bending the elbow on an awkward angle.

"Where else?" The man laughed, an almost fanatical glint was on his eyes. The glint was soon replaced with pain as Artemis slightly tightened the arm-lock, forcing Pioter's joints to a direction they were not meant to be bent.

"The Gleaming Dawn Church!" The man hurriedly squealed.

"The lone church on top of the rocky hill?" Belthazzar mused aloud. The frantic nod from the innkeeper was enough of an answer. "So what next?"

"We get in the church, inquire the whereabouts of the halflings, find them and get out." Artemis answered Belthazzar.

"Sounds simple." Eschuel added.

"What do you think we should do with this man?" Belthazzar felt Pioter trembling as he said those words. "I say we tie him up."

"I second that."

"Two against one," Artemis shrugged. "Do as you please. I will be waiting outside." Artemis walked out of the back door.

"Need any help?" Eschuel asked his dragon friend.

"No, I'm capable," Belthazzar spoke a Draconic word to a nearby hempen rope. The rope uncoiled itself as if handled by an invisible hand. "You both should go to the church first; I will catch up when I'm finished here." The silver dragon spoke another Draconic word, and the rope magically tied itself around the man, making little knots along the way.

"Alright then, I will see you there." Eschuel left the kitchen, wincing slightly as the cold rain continued their assault over his body.

Belthazzar looked at the man; his face seemed perpetually frozen in a stubborn grimace, writhing and wriggling constantly. The dragon then collected a droplet of sweat from Pioter's forehead; he whispered an arcane incantation to the collected liquid and touched the now enchanted droplet back to the man's forehead. The man's body instantly calmed, as Belthazzar magnified the innate negative energy of the droplet and transferred it back to Pioter; the energy was not enough to damage the man in any way, but it was enough to fatigue his body. Satisfied with the result, Belthazzar stepped out of the kitchen, spread his hoary wings, and took flight to the direction of the church.

The flight did not last long for the dragon, as he spotted, atop a high, rocky hill on the northwest side of town stood what is obviously the church. Constructed of heavy wood, it appears to have once been coated in a bright whitewash that has since largely peeled away. The great holy symbol of dawning sun-dedicated to Lathander seemed almost to be bleeding as it sheds the rain.

The dragon landed gracefully with a dull thud on the courtyard just outside of the entrance. Artemis and Eschuel both seemed relieved for Belthazzar's arrival, as both are soaking wet from waiting.

"Shall we?" The dragon asked both of them, Artemis walked straight to the main door.

"We shall." Eschuel replied, and playfully punched the dragon's side. "What took you so long?" Eschuel asked, brushing his wet hair aside.

"Had to calm the man," Belthazzar pushed the left door-pane as Artemis pushed the right. "Not a problem though."

The three of them found themselves within a long chamber, its vaulted ceilings made it appear far more cavernous than it truly is. On the far end, a raised dais boasts a heavy altar, draped in cloth embroidered with a smattering of holy icons and supporting several chalices, incense burners, and candelabras. Rows of wooden pews, made rough and rickety by years of use, or misuse, faced the altar. Several stained glass windows-probably worth more than the rest of the building combined, Belthazzar thought, sat high in the walls. The occasional flash of lightning sent out multi-hued patterns dancing and wriggling across the worked stone floors.

"Something is a bit off." Eschuel examined the various tools of worship.

"What is it?" Artemis asked, his hand fingered the hilt of his weapons just in case.

"Every item for sacred rites is present," He took a chalice, brought it near his face, and twirled it slowly for examination. "But the layer of dust on the each article means that they were not used recently." Eschuel blew the chalice's concave holder, sending fine grains of dust flying in the air.

"This church is just a front then," Artemis concluded. "The real demonic shrine must be around the vicinity."

"Or it could be underground," Belthazzar added. "I read in a book once that most cultists erect underground shrines to emulate their Lower Plane patrons."

Fitting, their underground operations are conducted underground, Artemis mused. The three companions began their search for the entrance to the supposedly underground shrine. Pews are broken, tables are turned, and holy relics are strewn about, until finally, Artemis found that one of the pews in the right rear of the church is in fact, counterbalanced to swing up. With a grunt, Artemis lifted the bench, the empty space revealed a spiral, iron-made staircase leading down into darkness; even with both Eschuel and Belthazzar's ability to see in complete darkness, the only object they can see from on top of the staircase was just, more steps.

"Going down?" Eschuel looked at Artemis.

"So be it."


	7. Chapter 6: Veneration

The stairs creaked and shifted beneath their feet out of age and weight, almost as though they were grunting in pain. The chamber into which the stairs descend was rounded on one side. Two doors provide egress to the right and left. Ahead of him, Eschuel saw a large double door standing between two much smaller ones.

All of the walls are etched with images of horrific creatures of the deep, from mighty serpents to great krakens. Their jeweled eyes seemed to glare with hatred to anyone who stares at them.

Artemis ran his fingers over the deep carvings made on the worked stone walls, they must have done this from a long time ago, he mused, marveling at how deep and meticulous the marks are.

Eschuel opened one of the smaller doors, and saw nothing but cloaks. He took a few out and laid them on the floor.

"We can use these to blend in," He gripped one in his hand and lifted the cloak up for Artemis and Belthazzar to see.

"No," Artemis shook his head. "These simple garments do not cover our faces. Unfortunately, they are useless as disguises."

"Perhaps there would be more concealing clothes over there." Belthazzar pointed at a wooden door five feet away from them.

The chamber was dark and empty but for silhouettes for a pair of unmade bunks, each with a small footlocker beneath it. With an intelligible whisper, a small sphere made of pure light shone bright, yellow light from the tip of Eschuel's finger, illuminating the room. Belthazzar winced at the yellowed sheets and grimaced even more as the acrid smell of sweat assaulted his sensitive nose.

Artemis saw a shelf harboring various items; the yellow light that bounced of its surfaces indicated that they are made of metals. He tapped Belthazzar's shoulders to garner his attention to the shelf.

The dragon narrowed his eyes momentarily, then smiled. He opened his Bag of Holding and unceremoniously dumped the various treatises to the extradimensional sack.

"They are sacred to Dagon no doubt," Eschuel cringed at a particularly lifelike statue of an old man having his eyes gouged out by a succubus. "Are you going to keep them?"

Belthazzar looked shocked at Eschuel's words. "Of course not!" The silver dragon then smiled. "As soon as we're back to civilization, I am going to sell these to a collector," He smiled, and then proceeded to dump the grotesque statuettes into his bag. Eschuel and Artemis can only shake their heads at the dragon's antics.

The three companions made their way out of the room and stood in front of the wooden double door. Eschuel raised his hands to open them, but was stopped in mid-stride by Artemis.

"We are not alone," He whispered to the boy. "How many?" He then asked Belthazzar. The dragon lifted two fingers. Artemis nodded and whispered something to the dragon.

Without a moment's hesitation, Belthazzar pushed the double doors as hard as he could, shoving them with great force, and knocking back the two squamous fish creatures that stood in wait behind the door. One of the creatures emitted a hideous, gargling shriek as the blow for the door knocked him down; a stomp to its head promptly silenced it for good.

Eschuel's sword stabbed the other fish-man in the gut, and Charon's Claw came angling straight to its chest. Strangely, the sickening fumes from the fish-men's blood were not as debilitating as when they first fought the creatures outside the inn.

"There's another door." Artemis pointed straight on at another double door, almost identical to the one Belthazzar just opened, at the base of the stair.

"Can you hear anything, Bel?" Eschuel nudged the silver dragon.

"There are about four more people inside," He paused to take a deep breath. "Should be fun." The dragon gave a comforting smile to his anxious friend. Eschuel smiled back, out of the corner of his eye, he saw Artemis's weapons are still on his hands.

"The same as before?" Belthazzar whispered to the man. Artemis merely nodded.

In the same fashion with the preceding door, Belthazzar rammed the double door with all of his might; breaking the hinges with a loud crack. Without looking, the dragon immediately bellowed a mighty roar, followed by an icy breath towards his front. The burst of glacial wrath enveloped one of the two warriors standing near the entrance, ending his life immediately. Artemis tumbled past the second, still surprised guardsman, and stopped a flying crossbow bolt with his dagger. The projectile aimed from behind the curtain rippled, and Artemis saw a pair of faces appeared around its edges. One is a blond-haired male, undoubtedly the alderman, the other one a gaunt female; the only similarity between the two figures are their moving lips, sounding sonorous, disturbing chants.

Eschuel ran past the frozen guard and charged the second warrior with a slash. The guard, however, raised his shield to block the attack, and let loose his own; the slash caught Eschuel in surprise and stroked his left cheek. The success of the man's attack brought a victor's smile to his face, but soon replaced with horror, as the boy's cheek wound immediately closed, as if never wounded. Instead of balking in shock, the man's eyes burned with corrupted zealotry and swiped his cutlass diagonally; Eschuel deftly intercepted the attack, and drove his blade to the man's unprotected side. The guard howled in pain, Eschuel's blow broke the links of his chain mail and left a gashing, dripping wound. Eschuel held his longsword so the tip only touched the guard's unprotected neck, silently asking the man to surrender, the man dropped to his knees, and Eschuel breathed a sigh of relief. Seeing his opponent let his guard down, the thuggish cultist dove straight to the boy, knocking him prone. The force of the fall made Eschuel loses his grip over his weapon; his assailant straddled the boy, and began showering the half-celestial with a barrage of punches. Each blow was not lethal to Eschuel, as he raised his arms to block the attack, the ones to escape his defense however, was of consequence to him as well, with his flesh too strong to break over such meager strikes. With a grunt, he pushed the man back, rolled to his side and retrieved his fallen weapon. His assailant however, did not stand, crimson liquid pooled around his writhing, prone form.

Wiping the sweat from his brow, Eschuel saw Belthazzar muttering in Draconic to a pale woman holding a crossbow; she whipped out a pendant and began a chant of her own. Belthazzar recognized the dweomer as one that will grant her invisibility, he clicked his tongue in annoyance and stopped his own magic in the process; Belthazzar stood still, and readied his senses to fine-tune the would-be invisible opponent. Alderman Ritter, pleased to find the dragon immobile, angled his crossbow to strike the dragon, but was surprised to find the crossbow on floor with a pair of hands; the alderman did not even have a chance to scream at the two bloody stumps that is now all that remained of his arms as Artemis plunged Charon's Claw deep to the man's collar, stabbing his heart.

Both Eschuel and Artemis were shocked to see the old woman wink out of sight. Artemis immediately backed himself to a wall and yelled at Eschuel to do the same, the first rule of fighting an unseen opponent is to minimize the avenue of its attacks. Belthazzar remained still, his keen hearing supplied him the rough location of the cultist from her footsteps, and the strong smell of seawater confirmed her exact whereabouts. With a silver flash, Belthazzar swiped a clawed hand to his side; the air rippled, and the old woman reappeared, clutching her shoulder as a deep line of crimson kept on spurting blood.

"So much for Dagon's avatars," Belthazzar chuckled at the carnage the three of them had inflicted.

The old woman, Sharallan, from what Artemis can remember of Pioter's words, coughed and sneered.

"That Pioter was always a fool," She muttered. "Ritter and I are mere adepts, dragon. Brother Althanis is the true manifestation of our Deep Father."

"Althanis? There's more of you?" Artemis asked, his gaze fixated unwaveringly at the woman, ready for any sudden movements.

"Oh, it does not matter," The woman let a cough escape her mouth. "But Lord Dagon himself will claim your souls after he has finished devouring the Zhentharim merchant, the elf and the little ones." The woman finished with a sickening cackle.

Belthazzar would have slain her there and then, if Eschuel had not ran past him and slapped the woman hard on her face. A look of absolute anger was present on the usually cheerful boy's face.

"Where are they!" Eschuel growled, his sword drawn very close to the woman's neck, a trickle of blood escaped between pale flesh and the sword

"Oh, even angels can get angry I suppose?" The woman mockingly said, causing Eschuel to press the blade harder.

"I've done my purpose here," The woman daringly said. "Kill me if you must, but I would have loved to see what benison the Deep Father will bestow upon Ashenport for your exquisite souls."

Eschuel was about to hit the woman again, but a hand on his shoulder stopped him. The boy looked back, and saw Artemis looming over him; a soft, but determined expression was on his face.

"Let me." Artemis simply said. The man walked slowly to the now sitting woman, her crazed laughing reverberated in the room.

"Tell me, cultist," Artemis crouched down so his head was level with the Sharallan's. "What would happen to your soul should you die?"

The maniacal laugh increased ten-fold as the woman looked at Artemis. "You foolish man, of course the Prince of The Deep would welcome my soul. Even in the Abyss I would serve him as his loyal and trusted subject."

"I see," Artemis stoically replied. "But for him to claim your soul, Dagon will actually _require_ your soul, correct?" Artemis drew his jeweled dagger from its scabbard, letting the woman's eyes to travel to the blade. Before the woman could answer his rhetoric, Artemis pricked his dagger on the expanse of pale skin near her palm. Artemis then willed the dagger to start the vampiric enchantment.

"Can you feel it, cultist?" Artemis said. "The draining of your very being."

Sharallan screamed in pain as the dagger forcefully leeched the woman's still burning soul from her body.

"The impending and inevitable total destruction of your existence."

The woman was now writhing on the worked stone floor; the excruciating pain wracking her body was like a thousand searing hot needles being plunged deep into her body, again, again and again; and with each plunge, a piece of her was taken away permanently.

"There won't be anything left of your demon to take after I'm done." Artemis said calmly to the quivering form. A chill ran through Eschuel's spine, and for once, he was truly glad that Artemis was on his side, and not the other way around.

The woman muttered a breathless sentence that is far too raspy for Artemis to hear, and so he slowed the process down; at least to enable her proper speech.

"Now speak," Artemis crossed his arms on his chest. "Where are the halflings?"

"They are with the Voice!" She screamed, fear was on her eyes rather than zeal. "We were only instructed to take the sleeping hostages straight to the caves under Ashenport; Brother Althanis is preparing the ritual as we speak!"

"Thank you." Artemis stood up. He nodded to Belthazzar. The dragon slowly made his way to the woman, taking a rose petal from his extradimensional container; he chanted the incantation for the sleep spell, and blew the petal to Sharallan, whose eyes immediately closed as forceful, magical sleep enveloped her.

"The only way is up," Belthazzar narrowed his eyes at a much larger double door than the ones they have opened so far. "They will be expecting us now." An excited grin appeared on the dragon's face.

"Oh, they will get what's coming to them." Eschuel gripped his sword tightly.

"Calm yourself," Artemis said to the boy. "This Althanis will be much more powerful than the cultists we have faced so far." Artemis advised him, remarking how his younger self was very much like the boy, over-eager and over-confident; but then again, his younger self would have not the patience to travel with two children, even if one is a dragon, and one hails from the Upper Planes. He silenced the distracting thoughts, and readied his mind for the battle ahead.

From Belthazzar's five outstretched fingers, Artemis knew that he would have to focus his attention to the most prevalent magic user of the five. He opened the door with a hard kick, letting the sound of crashing wood to ring

The three companions have entered a perfectly square chamber, which is empty save for several rows of kneeling cloths on which are embroidered huge, gaping ichthyic maws. The ceiling rises nearly thirty fee above them. On the opposite side of the room, a narrow stair leads to a higher platform. Artemis cannot see much of what lies on top of the raised platform, save for two statues that appeared to represent masses of intertwined tentacles and eel-like visages, and a huge altar of black stone from which rose a sculpted serpent, glaring toward the left. Artemis was certain that Althanis awaits them behind the altar.

As if on cue, a shadowed figure stepped past the dais. "My friends, please." The voice is that of an old man, old yet firm. It came indeed from behind the altar. Now that his attention has been drawn to the speaker, Artemis can indeed see an elder fellow, his gray hair long and stringy; he stood by the basalt block.

"There is no need for further violence. Join us." This was met by a scoff from Eschuel. "Pledge yourself to the Father of The Deep, and be greatly rewarded. Gold, jewels, and great magics can all be yours," Belthazzar actually snorted upon hearing the man's words, as if not listening, the old man continued. "As can forgiveness for those of the flock you have already slain. For Father Dagon is ever accepting." Althanis finished his grandiose speech with a flourish. A move which sent two fish-men clamoring the stairs, baring their clammy heads and spears; behind them stood a burly individual with a feral expression, Belthazzar recognized him as the rude sheriff from the inn, in his hand was a long, curved sword.

"I refuse." Was all Eschuel said. With a flap of his wings, the half-celestial flew towards the altar, the longsword extended beyond his form, heading straight for Althanis. The thrust connected, but not to flesh; the old man behind the altar suddenly expanded, as though something within struggled to escape. His muscles twist and split as his entire body forms a mass of writhing, skin-covered tentacles. Two of the slimy appendages wrapped itself on Eschuel's blade, with a whip-like lash, Althanis flung the charging Eschuel. Eschuel grunted in pain as his back met the hard stone of the floor, his wings are unharmed however, and instinctively formed a cloak over him.

"Ah, an angel," Althanis's distorted voice reverberated throughout the worship hall. "Lord Dagon would be pleased if he can taste your celestial-flesh."

Eschuel narrowed his eyes, and angled his sword above his head. "Come and get me then, old man."

Belthazzar was shocked to find that the curved longsword that the sheriff brandished can cut through his scales; the man fought ferociously after his lucky shot, dodging Belthazzar's claws and throwing his own swipes coupled with maniacal laughs. The silver dragon dodged another one of Kaern's wild swing, and closed his jaw to the sheriff's now exposed belly. Fangs pierced through steel and into flesh, and with a raking motion, Belthazzar ripped a chunk of Kaern's stomach. The man fell to his back, hands flailing to grasp at his fallen entrails, he gasped for air in short labored breaths, the pain being too much to handle for any cries; in an act of mercy, the silver dragon breathed a freezing gust to end the man of his misery.

As he licked the stinging wound on his shoulder tenderly; a sudden abundance of putrid smell suggested that Artemis was having no trouble fighting the two fish-men. He looked behind and saw one of the ichthyic creature stumble down the stairs, its head and both its arms are gone, he then saw Artemis, his dagger plunged deeply in the other fish-man's gut, the man then dragged the still imbedded blade upwards until it reached the creature's neck, he languidly twisted the dagger and rivulets of black blood spurted forth from the creature's now headless neck. He deftly ran past the corpse and up to the stairs, with Belthazzar close behind him.

The pair saw a grotesque mass of rubbery, squid-like bag of flesh with numerous squirming tendrils lashing out with its tentacles to a blurry, moving Eschuel, his white wings stained with flecks of crimson, and a trickle of blood ran freely from his hair. Despite its grotesque appearance, Althanis looked equally wounded, with streaks of bluish liquid running freely around his shoulders and pieces of tentacles strewn around like bits of refuse. Belthazzar hastily unleashed a breath of ice to the creature's direction; it slid away from the area of effect quickly with inhuman agility, causing the dragon's breath to miss completely. The distraction was enough for Eschuel however. The half-celestial spread his wings and took to the air; with a cry, the boy lunged for a second time. The attack proved true this time around, and with a mighty din, the longsword smashed deeply with Althanis's breastplate. Dented, but not shattered, Althanis's armor broke the blade in half and caused the wielder to be knocked back to the ground. Though not a mortal blow, Althanis staggered and began chanting an invocation.

"He's trying to heal himself!" Belthazzar bellowed to Artemis, as the dragon rushed to Eschuel's prone form.

Artemis immediately ran and used his dashing momentum to swipe the Althanis's legs with his sword. The sudden severed muscle caused Althanis's knees to buckle involuntarily shattering the spell process, not letting the creature any respite; Artemis yanked the mass of tentacles from his head back and ran Charon's Claw in front of Althanis's exposed neck. Blue-tinted blood began spilling from the clean slit Artemis had just made, coupled with the sickening sounds of ragged, wet breath. Artemis spun on the balls of his feet, and delivered a backhanded slash to the kneeling form; cleanly lopping the gaping man's head.

The din and clang of battle is ended. Heavy silence ensued, as the three victors regained their spent breaths and stretched sore muscles.

"Looks like you have no luck with swords, eh?" Belthazzar's voice broke the silence, pointing at Eschuel's sundered longsword. Eschuel head perked up from between his knees and managed to sound a quick laugh. He quirked his head at Belthazzar's shoulder wound.

"You're hurt," Eschuel had a surprised look on his eyes. "What can possibly cut through your scales?" The boy approached his dragon friend, and surveyed the cut intently; it was a clean, diagonal cut.

"The sheriff did," Belthazzar harrumphed. "He wasn't any good, but the blade he has is probably enchanted."

"It is a Kara-Turan blade," Artemis walked to the two children, said blade in hand. "They call it a katana," He dropped the curved sword into Eschuel's hand. "It's a fine blade, use it well."

"Kara-Tur, the far east?" Belthazzar said, licking his shoulder wound with his forked tongue.

Eschuel stood up and held the hilt of the sword with both of his hands, after a few practice swings, the boy sheathed the sword back to its scabbard and positioned it on his right hip.

Finally allowing themselves to rest and relax, the contents of the room became much clearer. The statues of tendrils seemed to writhe of their own accord, though Artemis noted that this may be the result of the continual flames that flicker near them. The altar is an enormous chunk of blackness, as though carved from the night sky, and the serpent that rises from it looked primordial, vicious, and angry.

At the rear of the room, a pool of brackish water suggested bottomless depths. The clear surface of the water began to ripple with unseen force until an abominable conglomeration of multiple species exploded from the pool, sending saltwater spraying in all directions. The three of them gaped in horror as clacking claws, writhing legs, wriggling antennae appeared before them. If the grotesque offspring of a crayfish and a beetle learned to walk upright like a man, it might resemble what Artemis, Eschuel and Belthazzar saw before them.

The creature's immobile stare-from what they can assume to be eyes, caused both Eschuel and Artemis to grip their weapons; an uneasy but intangible aura permeates from the grotesque monster.

"That thing…" Belthazzar growled. "It's not from this plane." He assumed a crouching position, like a great cat readying a pounce. Fear reflected from the dragon's silver eyes, an expression that both Eschuel and Artemis have never seen before from the jovial wyrm.

The creature let loose a high-pitched screech, and an immense feeling of dread washed over Artemis; as if a thousand buckets of shivering water has been dumped in its entirety on Artemis's body, coating his forehead with a layer of sweat, and even subconsciously causing his grip over Charon's Claw to weaken for a few, fleeting seconds. Belthazzar growled in defiance against the mental assault and unleashed his icy breath; the creature stumbled back, and much to Belthazzar's surprise, retaliated with a cone of freezing air as well.

The icy burst knocked Artemis prone, but the scraping pain of his backside hitting the stone floor snapped him out of his frightened state. He felt a wave of warmth enveloping his body from his back, and saw Eschuel finishing what it looks to be a prayer. Whatever god he prayed to, it was a good choice, Artemis noted silently; his grip over his weapon tightened with renewed resolve, as Eschuel's prayer infused him with hope and determination to end the grotesque opponent.

Beside him as he sped to meet the creature's neck with Charon's Claw, Belthazzar Silvertouched pounced on the creature, attempting to pin it, but as the silver dragon grappled the monster, the creature shoved the dragon to the side with more power. Artemis immediately let loose two diagonal slashes to the monster, each attack broke the crustaceous-like carapace, allowing a stream of clear liquid dribbling down the creature's right claw. The aberration merely looked at the wound, scooped some on his giant claws, and with four, wet, wriggling tongue-like appendages, licked it.

Artemis met the creature's arrogance with a smirk of his own; he had scored a hit with his jeweled dagger. Immediately, he willed the dagger to start the life-leeching process; the creature stopped in mid-stride, clutched his chest with his massive, crab-like claws, and screeched in pain.

Belthazzar roared again, this time in satisfaction; he rushed past Artemis, and raked a powerful clawing motion towards the creature, knocking it prone. Artemis then saw Eschuel flew past him, his new sword brought over his head and then plunged it to the creature's exposed belly, with a grunt, he pulled the blade out, only to thrust it again, deeper this time.

Artemis was about to issue a warning to both Belthazzar and Eschuel that the monster was still alive, evident from the gentle humming of negative energy still leeching whatever fueled the creature to live from Artemis's dagger. But the monster bolted up immediately with a head butt, connecting its chitinous head with Eschuel's; using the time bought from the dazed half-celestial, the crab-like creature backhanded Eschuel with its claw, sending the boy flying out of Artemis's sight.

The silver dragon without delay breathed another cone of cold to the creature; the creature screeched in protest to block the blinding and painful breath, white frost appeared all over the creature's carapace-layered arms, torso and head, and strictly on reflex the creature swiped his right claw at a wide arc, scoring a solid slam against the silver dragon's temple, sending the dragon skidding on the stone floor.

Artemis Entreri gritted his teeth at the situation both his companions were in. His right hand still maintaining its grip on the dagger, whose vibration intensified with time, still leeching off the creature's life-force; Artemis cannot help but wonder, what is the limit of the creature's resilience? Deciding not to rely solely on the dagger's vampiric enchantment, Artemis threw his blades in the air, and instead of his customary main-gauche fighting style, he caught Charon's Claw with his right hand and let his jeweled dagger be the off-hand blade, as the dagger's constant hum and tremor would prove detrimental to use in the offensive. He managed to check up on Eschuel behind him, and was relieved to find the boy still conscious, holding a silver glowing hand to his injured forehead.

The monstrous thing then screeched its high-pitched squeal yet again, and rushed towards Artemis. The man dodged the bull-rush attempt, and hacked the creature's back with a downward slashed, which bit through the carapace, but not enough for a mortal blow. The creature then pushed Artemis with its exposed back; causing the man to stagger, a dull, throbbing pain inside the left side of his gut signaled Artemis that the blow might have injured a rib or two.

Pushing on through the pain, Artemis ran to the creature's direction with wild abandon, seeing that, the aberration readied a massive swing, Artemis noticed the creature's stance and ran scenarios through his head of what would happen should the blow connect, but kept on running; just on the last moment before impact, Artemis rolled under the shoulder-length swipe, safe from any harm. The creature then spun around, only to squeal, as a new, long line of clear blood now flowed freely from his side, the side where Artemis had just rolled under. Artemis flashed a triumphant grin, by extending Charon's Claw as he rolled; the momentum of Artemis's evasive movement was translated into a slash with a speed much faster and harder than Artemis can ever do with his arms.

The move was not without its risks however, as shock of pain jolted through his ribs and gut, causing Artemis to remain crouched; the roll had aggravated his internal injury.

The monster then cackled hideously, as if mocking Artemis's injury; it then rushed towards Artemis, raising a claw overhead. Artemis, having no chance to dodge, blocked the strike with Charon's Claw, sending ringing vibrations traveling through his sword-arm. Even when visibly wounded, the monster's attacks are still as lethal and swift when it was uninjured a short while ago; not content to let the pain-and the creature win, Artemis thrust his Netherese blade deep into the hole Eschuel had made on the creature's gut, which the creature intercepted with its left pincer. Artemis cursed loudly.

Belthazzar rubbed his cracked horn, the dragon had managed to be knocked unconscious by the creature's titan-like strength; he wiped the blurriness from his eyes and saw Artemis fighting defensively, parrying, blocking and dodging encumbering claw-swipes and wide arcs of pincer. Belthazzar then saw Eschuel, about fifteen away with his white wings outstretched, the sheriff's katana gripped firmly with both hands, readying himself for an opportunity to strike.

Belthazzar groggily stood on his four legs; the throbbing ache on his temple still has not subsided. The dragon shook his head to clear the buoyant feeling, and saw Eschuel already plunging the blade deep into the creature's back, the blade was keen to be sure, its edge penetrated through the creature's rock-hard exoskeleton and emerged on the opposite side, just inches beside the creature's stomach wound. With a sly grin, Belthazzar knew that they are going to topple this creature, even if it is spawned from The Abyss itself; the dragon then flapped his taloned wings and lunged forth for the creature, he was determined not to make the same mistake twice.

Artemis was relieved to find Eschuel flanking the monster; the creature's divided attention made sure that Artemis's and Eschuel's independent attacks struck truer and bit much deeper than if they would have to go toe-to-toe with the monstrous thing. Then from beside, a silver blur crashed towards the creature, it was most certainly Belthazzar, true to Artemis's thoughts, the dragon used his superior weight coupled with his earlier diving motion to successfully pin the creature down.

Even under extreme duress of wounds and heavy burden, the monstrous aberration with its equally monstrous noises kept on thrashing and tried to buckle the silver dragon; Belthazzar was sure that if given more time, the creature would buck itself free with its tremendous strength.

"Finish it!" Artemis bellowed, clutching his side.

Belthazzar nodded an affirmation to Artemis and took a deep, long breath. He finished with a breath of freezing air, close to the creature's face, the powerful blast of glacial wrath seemed to assault the creature for hours, until Belthazzar stopped his breath attack and all that is left was a partially frozen monster, and leftover icy air pluming between Belthazzar's mouth.

Artemis then slammed his boot hard unto the creature's beetle-like head, shattering it to millions of icicles, ending the creature's life and the battle.

Not even before the three of them can catch a needed breather, from within the water, from beyond the cavern walls, seemingly from beyond the borders of reality itself, the three victors heard it. A hideous shriek, much like the creature's and the unearthly call they have heard since their arrival to Ashenport, but magnified, changed, worse.

It was a cry of rage, of fury unabated. Without pause, without breath, it continues, rises, until neither of them could scarcely hear their own thoughts. On it goes, and on, for minutes on end, until Eschuel and Belthazzar both felt warm, liquid trickling from their ears.

And then, just like that, it is gone.

The black onyx altar near them suddenly crumbled into dust which immediately evaporates to dark smoke as it reaches the floor. And almost immediately, a curtain of rippling air appeared behind the altar revealing three halflings, a dark-haired woman, a tall elf, and a human, all of them tied and seemingly unconscious.

"It's them!" Eschuel said, bounding happily towards the tied figures. Artemis and Belthazzar followed close, the dragon was already changing to his alternate form.

Artemis Entreri sat on top the driver's seat on one of the carriages; with Otho gone, he would have to share the responsibility of driving the caravan. He does not know if it is because of fatigue, or anything else, but the trip to the surface was quite like a blur for him. The elf, Alondell, was first to wake up, followed by the Zhentharim merchant, after their tired murmurs of gratitude; it was the five of them carrying the halflings back to the caravan through the oddly abandoned town, none of them were harmed physically, except the elf, who took a blackjack blow at the back of his head.

"Hey." Eschuel's voice alerted him from behind. Belthazzar in his human form was behind the half-celestial. Both boys took a seat beside Artemis.

"How's the halflings?" Artemis absentmindedly asked.

"Hildibrand's still sleeping and the same goes for the twins as well," Belthazzar scratched his temple as he finished talking. "Really heavy sleepers, halflings."

"You're one to talk," Eschuel playfully punched his friend's shoulder.

"Where are we heading next?" Belthazzar asked Artemis.

"The elf said without Otho, the caravan would then need to travel back to Waterdeep."

"To the City of Splendors then?" The dragon chuckled. Artemis answered with a nod.

A comfortable silence between the three ensued, interrupted slightly by the chirping of evening birds and the rustle of monkshood, coupled with the sound of arboreal winds.

"By Bahamut…" Belthazzar's voice shattered the almost sleepy silence. Artemis turned his gaze sideways to Belthazzar, whom had his head turned back. Both Eschuel and Artemis followed suit, and saw what was left of Ashenport. Even from the hill that the caravans were on, the town's situation was still visible.

As though it, too were a tool of the Prince of the Depths-and perhaps it was-the storm abates even as Artemis watches. The distant pounding of the rain dies into a fine mist, and the overcast clouds over Ashenport shatter like glass, allowing streams of the evening sun to pour between them. And that light illuminates now, a town truly, finally dead.

No signs of life remained, with no trace of any of the town's demon-enthralled citizens. Nothing, except, from what Artemis can make out, a hundred lines of footprints on the muddy beach, footprints that finally disappear into the tides of the wrathful, raging sea.


	8. Chapter 7: Night Of The Straw Men

The caravan moved slowly through the evening, it bustled with noises of activity, from two children cooking a meal for the rest, to the exasperated sighs of a lady who is actually more hindered than helped by the halfling twins, to the animated voices of chattering and laughter.

Eschuel sat on the wooden floors of his compartment; two more have joined their caravan, Terza, a Zhentharim merchant, and Jandal, a skittish jeweler from Neverwinter.

"You still awake?" A small, yawning voice snapped Eschuel from his thoughts. He turned his head to the source of the voice. Belthazzar, the silver dragon lay beside him, curling his tails to a ball.

"Can't sleep," Eschuel simply replied.

"It's been days," The dragon yawned again. "How long until Waterdeep again?"

Eschuel shook his head gently in disbelief, but with a smile on his face. "We will arrive there in two weeks," Despite the frequency of that particular question from Belthazzar, the dragon still winced upon hearing that dreaded answer.

"I could have flown, and it would be much, much faster," The dragon purred lazily.

"Then why don't you?" Eschuel playfully tapped Belthazzar's folded wings. The dragon gave Eschuel his customary mischievous smile.

"And miss all the fun and treasure?"

"Ashenport was fun?" Eschuel remarked, finding the demon-enthralled city not fun at all.

"You cracked one of your horns, Bel."

"Which healed." Belthazzar replied dismissively.

"And I've got a big gash on my forehead because of that town." Eschuel rubbed the area on his forehead where the spawn of Dagon had hit him.

"Again, healed." Belthazzar chuckled. "And the treasures we got, doesn't that excite you my celestial friend?"

"Let's just hope this sword here doesn't break as easily as the first one I got." Eschuel grinned, and patted the elaborate scabbard of his katana.

"It better not broke," Belthazzar pouted. "That blade is smarts I tell you." Belthazzar yawned again.

"I'm going back to sleep," Belthazzar curled into a ball of silver scales again. "Wake me when something interesting happens." And with that, the dragon was fast asleep.

Eschuel can't help but relate his draconic friend to a cat; despite his reptilian appearance, his mannerism and unfortunately, sleeping patters are almost the same as one of the feline-kind. After a few minutes of silence with closed eyes, still cannot passing the waking threshold to the realm of dreams, the half-celestial stood up, and made his way outside, to the driver's seat.

Artemis Entreri's lonely vigil herding the two broodmares was interrupted with the appearance of Eschuel. The boy took a seat beside Artemis, and looked upwards to the glittering Toril firmament.

"It's late." Artemis remarked.

"Can't sleep," Eschuel answered. "Are we stopping anywhere soon?"

"Tomorrow, according to Hildibrand's map."

"Another town?"

"Smaller than the last one," Artemis replied.

"Minus the storms and cultists?" Eschuel asked, he grinned a jester's smile.

"We can only hope." Artemis managed a thin, almost inaudible smile in return.

"You really should rest; help the half-elf on her cooking early on rather than the two troublemakers."

Eschuel nodded, and went back inside the carriage. "And tell the dragon to change his appearance." A muffled affirmative sounded from beyond the wagon.

Artemis too, was starting to feel the claim of sleep seeping through his mind; he wondered when Hildibrand or Alondell would come to relieve him. After a few minutes of idle and monotonous herding, and avoiding potholes on the Trade Way; a tap on his left shoulder made him turn back, and saw the elf, Alondell, ready to relieve him. He gave the man a quick nod of appreciation and left for his compartment.

Sleep eased the passage of time, and in a flash, sunlight replaced starlight as the shafts of radiance flitted through the caravan's covered end, one particularly stinging beam stopped on top of Belthazzar's eyelids.

The dragon awoke with a yawn, he was going to stretch his tails only to find that he had assumed his human form sometime in the night; he rubbed the sand in his eyes and realized that neither Eschuel nor Artemis was inside the drawn carriage with him, he also noted that the caravan was not moving.

Belthazzar strapped his Bag of Holding to his right hip, stepped down from the carriage and instead of seeing wilderness; the silver dragon saw a small hamlet, with wooden buildings and straw-thatched roofs, a large iron sign bearing the writing of 'Steeplefall' gave Belthazzar the name of the small town.

The silver dragon began walking around the village, an eager smile plastered on his face.

Naturally, the biggest and most sturdy-looking building is the inn, or if what the creaky wooden sign hanging near the door proclaims, Olivar's inn. The two-story stone and wood edifice stood as a testament of the villager's ingenuity. From the sign on the door, Belthazzar guessed that the inn is currently closed.

He walked past an alleyway near the inn and saw a teenaged boy and girl, perhaps two or three years older than Eschuel, just inside the mouth of the narrow alley, holding hands, whispering and giggling. Love-drunk fools, Belthazzar thought and was about to resume his walk when suddenly, a younger boy races up to the older, grabs his arm, and tries to drag him away from the girl.

"C'mon!" The little lad whines. "Pa's gonna be mad! You're supposed to be buying vegetables. Watcha' doing with her?"

Belthazzar let loose a small laugh at the sight the two teenaged lovers, both blushed deeply, said quick goodbyes, and reluctantly go their separate ways, taking a moment to whisper something to a tiny straw doll each carried.

The silver dragon quirked a brown eyebrow at the odd act; what is that doll? Belthazzar mused.

His curiosity over the doll intensified as he neared a merchant vendor selling sundries to a pair of twin halflings he recognized, the two children skulked away with their purchase of sweets and other condiments, whilst the grinning merchant pocketed his coins. For a moment the seller's predatory smile falters and he pulls a small straw doll out from underneath the counter, the same kind as the one the two teenagers had with them. He mumbled a few words which Belthazzar scarcely heard as 'thievery' before dropping it out of sight again. The silver dragon was not surprised as the merchant's grin returns instantly with a vengeance as he awaits his next customer, or victim.

He hailed the two running halfling boys, the twins bounded to him with exuberant waves.

"Any of you boys see Eschuel?"

"Nope," The left twin answered. "We all went our separate ways this morning!" The right twin added. "Candy?" The left twin offered.

Belthazzar took the offered sweets without hesitation.

"Alright, I'll see you both tonight then?"

"Yup!" Both the twins answered this time, and with a blur, ran off to some other vendor.

The village square in Steeplefall might usually function as a marketplace, but on this day the vendors have been pushed to the fringes of the area. A raised wooden platform has been erected near the western edge of the square, and two stout chairs rest upon it. It currently serves as a stage for a lute-strumming minstrel and an impromptu dance floor for a handful of young locals.

In the center of the square, some older villagers are slowly building up a great pile of wood, apparently for a bonfire. Jugglers and other entertainers pass through the area, performing for a few copper pieces the crowd tosses their way. The performers demonstrated their craft with more fervor and noise as Belthazzar threw three gold pieces on their collection plate.

Belthazzar walked around the square, pausing only to survey the various goods the vendors offered. The merchants are eager to either sell or buy, but Belthazzar knew the meager stands would not have the gold he desired for his newly-acquired statues from Ashenport. He sighed; partly borne out of boredom, but partly from relief as well knowing Steeplefall would not offer him the same excitement-and pain as the last demon-enthralled town he visited. The silver dragon would have to just be content with the calm and sleepy trading villages they are going to visit on their journey to Waterdeep.

"There you are!" A familiar voice alerted Belthazzar to a presence behind him. He looked back and saw Eschuel standing with a grin. "I thought you were never going to wake up."

"I told you to wake me up when something interesting happens!" Belthazzar returned the smile.

"Oh I did, believe you me, I tried," Eschuel feigned a tired look; he then raised three fingers in front of the shorter boy's face. "Three times, Bel."

The dragon then sheepishly laughed, a blush rose to his cheeks. "Never mind that then," Belthazzar peered behind Eschuel. "Where's Artemis?"

"Probably somewhere, he woke at dawn, earlier than me." Eschuel shrugged.

"So," Belthazzar asked his friend beside him. The two boys began walking. "Found anything interesting?"

"How do you feel about archery?" Eschuel answered, a smile splayed on his face.

The pair arrived at a large, rectangular clearing detached from the main areas of the town. Five straw dummies-some riddled with arrows, stood opposite a few townsfolk, longbows and crossbows in hand. A man with elven features clad in leather garbs watched the procession with mild interest. Belthazzar could easily deduce this was some sort of archery contest of some sort, but for what purpose, and more importantly, for what reward?

"What do I get if I win?" Belthazzar asked his friend.

"A bow," Eschuel said slowly. "A good one in fact." Eschuel said, fully knowing that his friend has caught his bluff.

"Sneaky, Eschuel," Belthazzar clapped his hands. "Even in the offset chance that _I_ win, I would have no use of the bow and will _probably_ give it to you," The young silver dragon concluded his theory with a loud 'Ha!'.

"I would never do such a thing!" Eschuel remarked. Belthazzar would have believed his friend's words if the threat of suppressed laughter did not appear on the corner of Eschuel's mouth. Belthazzar quirked an eyebrow at his friend.

"Oh alright, you got me, Bel," Eschuel raised his hands in defeat. "I was thinking of both of us entering the competition to see who can get the bow."

"That's it?" Belthazzar asked quizzically, sensing more to the answer.

"And to know who's the better archer, of course," Eschuel slyly replied, knowing full well that a dragon's pride is much, much bigger a driving force than their intelligence.

"I know what you're trying to do," Belthazzar replied. "But I'm okay with it." A silver dragon such as Belthazzar held their bearings high and regal, but nothing like his chromatic cousins. "Let's do this then," Belthazzar stretched his arms. "Best three out of five?"

Eschuel replied only with a confident smile.

The two boys stood side-by-side, each facing a target twenty feet away, in their hands are longbows that seem to dwarf them, and with a quiver of five arrows slung on their hips.

With a loud 'begin', Belthazzar took an arrow, notched it, drew the bowstring back, and let fly. The bow sang, and with a _thud_, the first arrow found its way to the dummy's head. The second, third and fourth shots were aimed and shot true; each arrow managed to strike the torso, neck or head.

Belthazzar paused momentarily to admire his handiwork; he remembered using the longbow when he was much younger, during his and his mother's frequent visits to the elven settlement near his home. Belthazzar cringed inwardly at the memory of his mother, she had died for some unknown and uncertain cause, and it was all for nothing; the sudden influx of ire from the memory left the young dragon with a bitter taste in his mouth.

The gentle _thud_ of arrow meeting straw reminded him that his fifth shot is still pending. He hurriedly notched his last arrow, swallowed the lump in his throat and let the arrow fly; he instantly regretted it, his form was not straight, his aim was not as steady as his other shots, and he forgot to take account of the fickle wind.

The arrow flew, grazed the side of the dummy's head and retained its flight-path, the wayward missile finally landed squarely at a tree. Belthazzar cursed under his breath, but otherwise maintained a blasé attitude towards the missed shot. Too blasé perhaps, in the midst of acclamation, Eschuel quickly dropped his borrowed bow and quiver and went to Belthazzar's side.

"What's wrong?" Eschuel asked, worry creased on his brow. Belthazzar was grateful at his friend's attention, but not eager to share the memories.

"What do you mean?" Belthazzar feigned ignorance, berated himself silently for being unconvincing.

"I knew you could land that fifth shot, Bel. What distracted you?"

"It was nothing," Belthazzar answered, giving Eschuel his usual smile. The half-celestial looked at the dragon as if saying _'really?'. _Eschuel then clicked his fingers and broke into a wide grin.

"Sneaky, Belthazzar," Eschuel echoed the dragon's earlier words. "You lost on purpose, so I can get the prize!" Belthazzar did not have to act surprised upon hearing Eschuel's words.

"You got me." Belthazzar nervously laughed. It was a complete an utter lie, but it would have to make do.

"So," Eschuel grin widened. "Does this mean _I_ am the better archer?"

"Hells no!" Belthazzar replied with a boisterous laugh. "I let you win this time, next will be a genuine, no holds-barred competition."

"But I still will win." Teased Eschuel.

Belthazzar was going to answer the rhetoric when the man organizing the archery event approached the two, the prize longbow on his hands.

"Such skills at such a young age, here is your prize," The man smiled, and handed the masterwork bow to Eschuel. "But you, boy, you have the form of a _Quessir_-the elven folk," The man averted his gaze to Belthazzar. "Where did you learn it?"

"In Tethir, the elves of Wealdath taught me how to use the bow." Belthazzar spoke the sentence fluently in Elvish.

"Ah, then you are lucky, young man," The man replied in Elvish as well. "Not many can learn under the tutelage of my father's people."

"I thank you for your compliments." Belthazzar concluded the sentence with a slight bow.

"And so polite, go with Corellon Larethian's blessings young man, I hope our paths shall meet again." The half-elf replied with a curtsey on his own, and went back to organizing the next set of the competition.

Belthazzar found Eschuel looking at him in astonishment. "Something in my face?" The dragon touched his right cheek.

"No, not that," Eschuel laughed. "You just spoke Elvish, how many languages can you speak?" Eschuel asked in Celestial.

"Four, not counting Common," Belthazzar said in the lilting, song-like words of the Upper Planes. "Draconic, Elven, Celestial and Undercommon." He said each individual name in their native tongues to emphasize his point. "Oh, and I can read Kara-Tur."

"I've heard of the Far East, have you been there?"

"My mother did, she would tell me stories of our distant cousins." Belthazzar said.

"You have relatives all the way there?" Eschuel asked with apparent surprise. Belthazzar chuckled upon hearing his friend's remark.

"By cousins I didn't mean silver dragons, my mother told me stories of the Lung dragons. The native dragons of Shou Lung and the Wa islands."

"Lung?" Eschuel quirked his eyebrows at the truly foreign-sounding name.

Belthazzar nodded at his friend. "Mother told me that they are dragons as well, but they look and think about the world differently."

"Different how?" Eschuel motioned his friend to sit under the shadow of a nearby oak tree.

"Well," Belthazzar sat down. "For some peculiar reason, they don't like gems, jewels, and treasure." Belthazzar shook his head in disbelief. "They're crazy I tell you."

"You mean they're not as greedy as Western dragons?" Eschuel smiled; the smallest hint of laughter ghosting over his lips.

"I resent that!" Eschuel saw Belthazzar's cheeks flared with an undeterminable expression of either anger or embarrassment. "We dragons are not greedy," Eschuel replied only with silence and a quirked eyebrow. "We're not!" Belthazzar said exasperatedly. "We just… _appreciate_ shiny and precious things," The silver dragon stammered, the red on his cheeks flared tenfold at an obviously weak euphemism which even the speaker himself find lacking.

"It's alright Bel," Eschuel gave his still-blushing friend a comforting pat. "I'm sure silvers are less greedy than whites or reds, no?" He chuckled.

"My… _misguided_ cousins would just steal every little thing they want, without regards to anyone."

"And you?"

Belthazzar feigned a hurt look.

"I like treasure, but they are not everything to me." A solemn expression was on his face.

"I know that," Eschuel clarified. "I jest, Bel."

"I know." He looked away from Eschuel.

The serious expression on Belthazzar's face quivered, the frown made way to his customary mischievous smile and Belthazzar then laughed, loudly. "I can't believe you fell for it!" More laughter ensued; it was Eschuel's turn to redden this time. The half-celestial was about to issue a rebuttal, but instead opted to push his laughing friend; the gesture contained no real malice, but Belthazzar was still laughing so hard, that playful motion was enough to send him prone on top of the grass.

After a few moments of comfortable silence between them, enjoying the cool shade and the slight noon breeze, away from the din and clang of the village square, a pang inside his gut caused Belthazzar to sit up from his reclining position.

"I'm hungry." Belthazzar put a hand on top of his stomach. "Let's get some food."

"We should, I actually have a hunger as well." Eschuel nodded to his friend, stood up, and brushed away the blades of grass that stuck on him.

Annoyance would be the perfect for Artemis Entreri at this exact moment having his right arm holding another squirming arm of a woman twisted at an angle that is not suitable for arms to be twisted; yet Artemis Entreri was beyond annoyance, for some odd reason, he was not angry; amusement would be the perfect emotion to describe him now. The woman, hooded and slim with two daggers on her hip, had been subtly _liberating_ coins from unsuspecting villagers, took a silver necklace from an unsuspecting merchant and an apple from a child. Artemis knew that the gold pouch on his right hip was her next target; as ignorant as Steeplefall is to her thievery, she was but a novice, and Artemis was familiar enough with the subtle art of pickpockets to intercept her hand before it reached his money bag.

The awkward sight of Artemis holding the woman's arm forcefully was invisible to the villagers at large and was noticeable only to some, the furmity-selling old lady shaking her head near him, a man with a shocked expression in front of him, and two boys whom Artemis recognized, one having yellow, wavy hair and the other a shorter, paler, brown-haired child.

Artemis sent the thief bounding away without a word, but not before taking her money pouch; from her nonchalant reaction, Artemis guessed that she was unaware of it. He sat down on one of the chairs; he nodded at the kindly-looking old lady for a bowl of the hot delicacy.

"Mind if we sit with you?" Belthazzar asked, half-hoping that the older man was in a socializing mood-or at least, in mood to talk more than just monosyllabic phrases.

"Go ahead." Artemis answered with a neutral expression, one that was unreadable as negative or positive by Eschuel and his dragon friend. Artemis raising two of his fingers to the furmity seller made the situation much hospitable.

"Generous." Belthazzar cooed.

"Might as well, dragon." Artemis put the stolen money pouch on top of the table; from the sound of it, the unremarkable brown bag perhaps only held a smattering of silver coins, but otherwise more than enough for three bowls of furmity.

"What do you think of this place Artemis?" Eschuel asked.

"Aside from the odd dolls, this village is safe."

The old woman brought three steaming, ochre-smattered bowls of white; he smiled sweetly to the two eager boys and spoke to Artemis with a hushed voice. The man shook his head, refusing the offer for added cordial to his furmity-a trick for her customers for wanting more of her brew, Artemis mused.

"What about the woman back then?" Belthazzar chuckled, then spooned a mouthful of his hot lunch into his mouth.

"The village's resident thief, most probably." Artemis too, began eating the furmity.

"I've been thinking about those straw dolls," Belthazzar paused to mutter an approving exclamation for the taste of his food. "Everyone seems to have them; I wonder what they use those dolls for?"

"That's quite the cult-like behavior, no?" Eschuel asked the older man's opinion.

"Could be, could be not," Artemis shrugged his shoulders. "Remember you Ashenport? And the secretive acts and subterfuge they relied on to conceal their real beliefs?" Artemis clarified to the confused-looking Eschuel; a nod from him was a signal for Artemis to continue. "They hid their veneration to a demon because it was out of the norm, and would probably attract unwanted attention if they do not remain subtle in their worship. The people of this hamlet are not hiding the fact that they have some sort of ritual involving the straw figurines."

"And so, that means that said routine is not malicious!" Belthazzar piped in, his words a tad inaudible due to his full mouth.

Artemis nodded, quite surprised at Belthazzar's deduction; it seems underneath the young dragon's exuberant nature, there lies great intelligence as well.

"Then there's only one way to test that theory." Eschuel said. The boy flipped his chair to the opposite direction, and tapped the shoulder of a nearby patron.

"Excuse me sir, can you tell us the importance of the straw dolls that everyone seems to have?"

"Blunt." Belthazzar remarked. Artemis agreed with the dragon, but did not say.

The man looked at the eager smile of Eschuel, and can't help but return the grin with his own. "Well young man, it's been a life-long tradition of Steeplefall to celebrate the end of summer. With the end of summer's bounty, we gods-fearing folk of Steeplefall used these straw dolls," He held up a small, crude humanoid figure crafted from yellow straw.

"Well what does it actually do?"

"Ah, it's not about the dolls doing something, lad, but for us to do something with it." The man laughed earnestly. "We whisper our wrongdoings-call it sins if you be, we committed a year past. At dusk today, the square will be cleared and a big bonfire will be lit. Everyone round here would gather and toss the dolls into the fire. Call it a fresh start away from sins, though some folks do it just because it's inborn in their blood or something!" The man laughed again, and returned his attention to his quickly-cooling furmity.

"Interesting custom." Eschuel spoke to both of his companions.

"A day of repentance, then a fresh start for a whole new year for more debauchery," Belthazzar mused aloud. "You humans are a superstitious folk." The dragon said sagaciously, stroking a non-existent beard on his chin.

"I presume you two would watch the procession?" Artemis asked.

"Yes," Eschuel said. "Unless we are leaving tonight?" He then replied with a question of his own.

"We leave at dawn, the rest have rented rooms at the inn. I will take care of our accommodations later." Artemis tapped the stolen pouch on the table.

"Gracious." Belthazzar remarked.

"No," Artemis stood up. "Just bored." He corrected.

The two young men watched as Artemis dropped a few silver pieces from the pouch, and left with a simple nod.

"Charming fellow." Belthazzar remarked when he was certain Artemis was out of earshot, sarcasm dripping from his voice.

"And so talkative." Eschuel offered a jest of his own. Both laughed at each other's jibes.

"Wonder what his purpose is," Belthazzar said, only more serious this time. "He's not a merchant I tell you that."

"Of course he's not a merchant Bel," Eschuel snorted. "Have you ever seen a merchant who can fight as well as him?" Eschuel finished his last spoonful of furmity. "And that frightening dagger." Eschuel's hidden wings bristled upon saying those words, the look of absolute horror and despair on one the cultists' face on Ashenport was a memory he would not soon forget.

"I think his sword is the more fearsome one," Belthazzar said. "Did you see how it cuts limb and neck like paper?" Belthazzar chuckled nervously. "Whatever he is, he is skilled, _very_ skilled."

Eschuel nodded, and crossed his arms over his chest. "I'm just glad he is an ally. Our ally." Belthazzar can only murmur in agreement at his friend, for he too, lacked the power to stop Artemis should he turned on them.

"What time is it now?" Eschuel words echoed inside the furmity tent, breaking the silence between them.

Belthazzar looked outside; the sun had hung lower than when they first ate their meals yet the white light of noon had changed to its customary vermillion. "It's not dusk yet, I can tell you that. We have some time to kill."

"I saw a colorful looking tent on the north side of the square." Eschuel said. "Let's see what the tent is for."

"Might as well," Belthazzar shrugged his shoulders. "Perhaps we can plant corn and till the fields later!"

Eschuel just smirked at the silver dragon's sarcasm.

The colorful patchwork tent has a variety of stringed beads, dangling charms, and other strange tokens hanging near its entrance. A hand-painted sign outside indicates that "_Ednea: Mistress of Mysteries & Fortuneteller Extraordinaire" _waits within.

"Now isn't that ominous?" Belthazzar chuckled, not bothering to hide his sarcastic tone.

"She could be a real seer."

"Right," Belthazzar crossed his arms. "And I'm an albino wyvern whom was raised by a silver dragon and then took on draconic traits."

Eschuel merely rolled his eyes and made his way inside the tent-or tried to, as Belthazzar snagged his arm with own from behind.

"Ten gold she's a fake." The silver dragon winked his eyes mischievously at Eschuel.

"Deal." The half-celestial shook the offered hand.

The pair made their way inside the tent; multicolored candles flickered from the wind of their movements, the candlelight revealed an aging woman with dark hair tied into a bun, sitting behind a small table, the table is empty save for a deck of cards, no crystal ball, no tea leaves, or any other stereotypical divining equipment for that matter.

"Sit down dears." Her voice was firm yet gentle. Aside from her dark robes, she looked exactly like any other woman.

"I am Ednea, Steeplefall's resident diviner," The woman smiled. "By just a silver piece, I can try to divine the future, and give you the answers that you seek."

Eschuel nodded, her promising demeanor brought out hope that she truly can answer his questions, and win the bet of course.

"Who goes first? Ednea the seer asked. Eschuel tapped a silver coin on top of the wooden table.

"Will I find the person called "Baran Fire-walker"?" Eschuel hopefully asked, beside him, Belthazzar quirked his eyebrow at the question.

The old woman closed her eyes, took the deck of cards, and began chanting obscurely.

Magic, both of them thought; Eschuel smiled to his friend a triumphant grin, and Belthazzar reluctantly fished out ten pieces of gold from his hip-bag, they turned their heads back to the chanting woman as her mutterings subsided.

Ednea opened her eyes, which have turned paint-white with the divining dweomer.

"You will find the one you seek, child," Ednea's voice turned haunting and ethereal, as if each word was being repeated by an unknown speaker. "But your journey long and perilous, for the north, south, and west would not relinquish your quarry." The woman closed her eyes again, and when opened, revealed their normal colors again.

"Was my answer useful to you, child?"

Eschuel stared blankly at her; the riddle of an answer she gave him was lost to him.

"Unfortunately no, can you help me decipher your words?"

"It was neither a riddle nor a pun; I have given you directions on where you will find the person you are looking for, my words will be decipherable to you in time."

"I didn't know you were looking for someone." Belthazzar asked, catching up to Eschuel who languidly walked out of the tent.

"Yes, Baran Fire-walker," Eschuel nodded. "The man who found me."

"Found you?"

"The only name the priests of Ilmater gave me when I asked who left me on the steps of their church. He left as soon as he trusted a winged baby to the head chaplain."

"Is he your father?"

The half-celestial replied only with a weak shrug.

Belthazzar can only watch in silence, as Eschuel's usual bright eyes showed sadness; the young half-celestial rubbed his glazed eyes and forced a smile, only to look wistful.

"You'll find him," Belthazzar tapped Eschuel's right shoulder reassuringly, even if he himself did was not sure.

"Thanks Bel," The boy breathed a deep sigh. "Let's just talk about this some other time."

"Sure."

A sudden explosion of reds and oranges followed by a sweeping heat wave clued both of the boys that the bonfire has started. True to their prediction, most of Steeplefall are gathered to celebrate the holiday.

Some watch a variety of entertainers-jugglers, minstrels, puppeteers and the like along the fringes of the village square, while others are gathered in and around Olivar's Inn to the east, where the proprietor has rolled kegs of beer and casks of wine and cider outside to sell drinks to anyone who has a cup, flagon or waterskin.

More have congregated more around the now blazing bonfire in the center of the square, chatting, warming themselves by the fire, or dropping their little straw men into the roaring flames. To the west a growing line has formed of townsfolk who wish to speak briefly with the village priest and/or the mayor, both of whom who remained seated on chairs atop a raised platform there.

Artemis Entreri stepped out of the inn and saw the commotion in the village square. The large bonfire bathed the evening sky with vermillion, coating everyone with warmth and an orange shade; he quickly spotted Eschuel and Belthazzar some seven feet from the fire, Terza the Zhent, Jandal and Alondell in deep conversation near the raised platform, and lastly, Hildibrand with the halfling twins in front of a colorful tent.

A shriek from somewhere deep within the throng of villagers alerted Artemis. As if orchestrated by an invisible hand, a disturbance rippled through the crowd and panicked townsfolk part to let someone through. Judged solely by its shabby clothes and herky-jerky gait, the party crasher might be mistaken for the village drunk, but Artemis unexpectedly found that the causer of this ruckus has a carved pumpkin atop of his shoulders instead of a human head! Inside the orange gourd, a mystical flame dances madly.

Pointing to the priest on the platform, the living scarecrow's mouth animated. "The bigger the sin, the bigger the straw man! I am your straw man, priest-living testament to the number and gravity of your sins!" The creature approaches the platform unchallenged while the mayor leaps off to the side and runs for his life.

Artemis felt a small missile flew past his ear, and with a _thud_, an arrow had imbedded itself in the middle of the scarecrow's carved eyes; it was not a mortal blow, but the force of the arrow was enough to knock the charging construct prone.

Artemis turned his head to the arrow's flight path and saw the green-clad elf, Alondell notching another arrow on to his bow.

The sounds of festivity immediately turned to that of horror and fear, shrieks of women and cries of children filled the air, the scarecrow immediately stood up, swatted another arrow meant for it, and made its way towards the priest. Artemis saw the lavender-clad cleric, mouth chanting with both his hands raised high, asking for a blessing.

Artemis began running towards the creature, Charon's Claw for his left and the jeweled dagger on his other hand. The scarecrow saw the approaching Artemis, but its pumpkin-head snapped back to the priest's direction, ignoring all other threats.

Fool, Artemis thought and grinned, he increased his running speed and crashed to the scarecrow with Charon's Claw extended forward; the blade met an unexpected resistance, as if Artemis had struck a stone wall rather than masses of straw, he cursed as the scarecrow rebounded quickly from the attack and started running with a burst of speed towards the priest yet again.

The priest, shocked but otherwise ready for the attack readied his mace to block the raised arms of the scarecrow; Artemis saw the priest actually managed to block a swipe, but was immediately blown off the platform by a kick from the construct's iron-wrought legs. Artemis immediately vaulted the platform's railing and used the momentum from the slight jump to bring an overhead slash with his sword; Charon's Claw this time managed to overcome whatever shielding enchantment the construct has, and the blade scored a large cut on the scarecrow's back.

Offering no respite, Artemis smashed his sword again to the cut, to no avail it seems, as the intangible force surrounding the creature did not yield against Artemis's chop; the scarecrow turned his head towards Artemis and let loose a jab towards the man, Artemis intercepted the punch with Charon's Claw flat side, but the force from the fist was enough to make his footing skid backwards.

Artemis then saw Eschuel flying straight for the scarecrow, his white wings spread, right arm raised high with his sword and Belthazzar-still in his human form, clung onto Eschuel's left arm. Eschuel, in similar vein to Artemis's successful attack, brought his katana squarely down onto the creature's shoulder blade, almost cleaving its left upper arm completely. With a flick of his left arm, Eschuel tossed Belthazzar rolling to the raised platform, and maneuvered his flight towards the direction where the priest had fallen.

Artemis pressed the offensive, swiping and slashing his blades in easily-evaded wide arcs, more to create opportunity than to land hits. With the scarecrow's attention fixated upon Artemis's flurry of slashes, Belthazzar moved to the right-side of the scarecrow's flank, he held his right fist near at chest-level, readying a blow, one that the silver dragon planned could send the scarecrow flying to the still-lit bonfire.

The scarecrow hastily ducked under a swift horizontal swipe, its legs bent to the extreme to allow the dodge, its equilibrium in flux due to the sudden movement, but most importantly, its attention completely fixated on Artemis's attacks. Belthazzar Silvertouched grinned upon the long-awaited opportunity, and brought his whole body forward along for the punch.

A dull, loud noise erupted from Belthazzar's blow as fist met with body; the creature flew from the overwhelming force of the hit, its mangled body arcing through the night's sky until it fell to the ground below with a crack.

Both Artemis and Belthazzar vaulted the platform and landed squarely on the almost-deserted village square; Artemis had to admire the construct's resilience, even with its wrecked torso, his non-functional left arm and its shattered legs, the magical flame still burns brightly inside the carved pumpkin, trying to animate its body with sheer magical force alone. The swishing sound of an arrow flew between Artemis and Belthazzar, and said arrow landed straight onto the first arrow that struck the scarecrow's head. The blow cracked the pumpkin, and through sheer inertia alone, split the head; the magical fire shot upwards and dissipated into thin air, and the creature's jerky and twitchy movement is now still.

"So much for peace and quiet, eh?" Belthazzar turned his head towards Artemis. The man just sighed, and repeated the dragon's words silently, so much for peace and quiet indeed.


End file.
